#or hit me over the head with a very large rock

[aanoia]

Orphic (pt. 5)

pairing; Ao'nung x Sully!reader Orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing; beyond ordinary understanding words; 1,737 warnings; nothing Pt. 1; Pt. 2; Pt. 3; Pt. 4 I do not like this chapter very much. Not just because of it's contents, I feel like it was poorly written and it is unedited :) Eventually I'll go back in and make it better, I just wanted to get a post out for you guys. <3

A few days later, Y/n sits with a permanent smile on her face as she weaves together the ends of a necklace. She expertly makes a slip knot, so it doesn't have to be re-tied every time it's put on. She smiles at the finished necklace, and glances at her satchel filled with other ones. She's finished all of the necklaces, and she's never been more excited to give them out.

She stands, her satchel in hand. She digs through it and pulls out the smallest one. It's decorated with pretty rocks and beads. She walks over to Tuk and Kiri and sits next to them.

“I've got something for the two of you.” She says with a grin, taking out another necklace. She hands one to Tuk, and the other to Kiri. The girls grin as they take then, and Tuk jumps up in joy.

“I love it, sissy!” She wraps her arms around her sisters neck, hugging her tightly. 

Kiri smiles gratefully at her, “Thank you, Y/n.” 

Y/n nods, patting Tuk's back, “Of course. I love you, Tuk, but I gotta give ‘Teyem and Lo'ak their necklaces as well.”

Tuk nods and pulls away, putting her necklace on with a grin. Y/n stands again and goes to her brothers, giving them there's as well. Neteyam thanks his sister with a soft smile, and Lo'ak pretends to hate it but puts it on immediately and hisses when Y/n tries to take it back. She goes to her parents and a wide grin is on her face when they accept the gifts with smiles and hugs.

As the family walks to last meal, there's a bounce in the girls step. Once they make it to their friends, Y/n promptly hands a necklace to Rotxo and Tsireya (it should be noted that their necklaces contained only materials from the forest, so it's a different kind of special). Ao'nung watches her hand out the necklaces with a soft smile, and it grows once she sits next to him. 

“Do I get one too?” He asks softly, nudging her knee with his.

She nods, taking her satchel and pulling out another necklace. This one is different. It's a mix of the ocean and the forest. Small shells and beads line the chord, and the centerpiece is a large crystal, a deep green color. Ao’nung takes the necklace gently, studying it for a long few seconds. He glances up at Y/n, his eyes sparkling.

“I love it, it's beautiful.” He says softly. The stone rests in his hand, “What is it?”

“Zeswa tskxe, it was my favorite thing to find back at home… and I thought you'd like it.” She smiles sheepishly, her eyes trained on the necklace. 

He looks at her, his eyes full of affection, “Help me put it on.” He commands softly, taking off the one he was already wearing. 

“You just put it over your head.” She raises a brow, a small smile on her face. He rolls his eyes, and carefully puts his necklace over her head. She stares at him, her eyes widened slightly as he adjusts it to sit nicely on her chest. 

“Help me, please.” He repeats quietly, holding the necklace out to her. She nods with a small smile and lifts it over her head. She gently pulls his curls out from under the cord, and adjusts it accordingly. She smiles softly, following the cord around his neck until she reaches the center part. Her hands flatten against his chest for a moment, and Lo’ak gags.

“Ew, guys, chill out.” He teases and Tsireya hits his arm, scolding him quietly. Y/n scoffs a laugh at him and shakes her head, retracting her hands. 

“Skxawng.” She glares at him and he sticks his tongue out. Ao’nung laughs at the scene, shaking his head.

“You guys are ridiculous.” He says quietly, a big smile on his face. He loves his friends, his people. (Not people as in his clan people, people as in the people he wants to spend the rest of his life with.)

The rest of last meal goes smoothly. It’s filled with smiles and laughs, true happiness. The group of children are the loudest, their giddiness spreading to the rest of the clan, and suddenly everyone was smiling and laughing. The contagious joy made the Olo’eyktan smile at his people, especially his children. Letting the Sully family stay with them was probably one of the best things he’s done for them as their father, as he gave them lifelong friends. Unbeknownst to him, his wife sits with a scowl, deep in thought. She’s thankful her children are happy, but the pairing of the eldest children cannot happen. It will never work out. 

There's a knock on the frame of the Sully family, and the flap opens to reveal the Tsahik of the Metkayina. Her expression is anything but happy, in fact it's angry and if one looks closely, mournful. The head of the family stands, and looks at Ronal with his brows drawn. His mate stands beside him, her tail flicking behind her as she looks the woman up and down.

“Ronal, do you need something?” Jake asks firmly, but softly, so as to not start unnecessary conflict.

“I must speak to your eldest daughter privately.” Her gaze drifts behind the two adults and lands on the girl. Y/n swallows thickly, hesitantly standing up. She walks towards the entrance of the marui, but her mother holds her arm art, stopping her child by the abdomen.

“What is it you must speak to her about?” She asks shortly, the faintest hiss behind her words.

Ronal lifts her chin, “Her relationships with my son.”

Jake looks between his family and the woman, “Shouldn't we speak about this together?”

“You will let me speak to your daughter privately, Jakesuli. I am your Tsahik.” Ronal hisses, fire in her eyes. 

Jake sighs, speaking up before his mate can, “Alrigh, alright, it's all good. Come on, babygirl.” He gently takes the girls arm and pulls her forward. “It's alright. Don't take too long, yeah? It's getting late.”

“Jake,” Neytiri hisses quietly. Jake ignores his mate, staring intently at Ronal.

The woman takes Y/n by the wrist and nods shortly, before pulling the girl out of the marui. She leads her a bit aways, so no one can hear, and turns to the girl. 

“You and my son, do you plan to mate?” She questions suddenly, and Y/n's breath catches in her throat.

“Are we- what?” She asks incredulously.

“Do you plan to mate?” She repeats, this time slower as if she views Y/n as stupid.

“I mean… I don't know.” Her face burns as her gaze lowers to the sand. “Maybe?”

Ronal inhales deeply, “I cannot have it. You must cut all relations with my son.”

Y/n's head whips up, and her eyes are wide, “Cut all relations? I don't understand.”

“If you were to mate with my son, you would be expected to be the Tsahik of the Metkayina. But my clan would never accept you and your demon blood.” 

Y/n swallows the lump in her throat, “I'm the daughter of Toruk Makto-”

“No, you are not.” She hisses.

“I am. And I'm the birth daughter of two mighty warriors. It would not be a shame to be my mate.”

Ronal's nostrils flare, and she braces the girl by her shoulders, “You will no longer see my son! He deserves more than a reject mate.” Y/n's first instinct is to shoot back, but she doesn't even have time to think before Ronal speaks up again. “Or you may consider your family's uturu gone.”

Y/n looks at her with her mouth slightly gaped, “You’re threatening me?” Her voice is soft and filled with disbelief. 

“I’m giving you a choice.” Ronal corrects. 

Y/n's eyes water slightly as she thinks, she swallows thickly. “Okay… fine. I won't see him anymore.” Her head bows in shame.

Ronal nods once, and her hands retreat. “I'm very sorry, child. It is simply what's best for my clan, and my son.”

Y/n nods, “May I go?”

Ronal hesitates and the reality of the situation sets in and she can’t help the small feelings of regret peak in. “Yes, you may. Enjoy your night.”

Y/n walks back to her family’s marui with a heavy heart. Her feet drag as she ponders over what just happened, a deep frown on her face. She was given an impossible ultimatum. And she had to choose her family, but she can’t help but already grieve the relationship lost. Whatever she had had with Ao’nung must be gone now, and it was so painful. Worse than a thousand bullets in the thigh.

She enters quietly, and all eyes are on her. She knew immediately, that despite the hurt of losing him, it was all worth it for them. She smiles softly at everyone, a twinge of sadness in her eyes. Her father sighs softly, and opens his arms quietly, beckoning her in for a hug. She accepts, and speeds to his arms. He wraps his arms around her safely, instinctually rubbing her back comfortingly. 

“I’ve got you, babygirl.” He whispers quietly, and Y/n nods against his chest, hugging him tightly. 

After a moment, Y/n looks up. Jake’s heart clenches, to him in this moment, she’s a young child again, clinging to him after she scraped her knee. “Dad?”

He tucks hair behind her ear, “What’s up?”

“Did we end up stealing any of those board games?” She asks quietly. 

Lo’ak stands, and moves to his bag. He rummages through it as his father shakes his head, unaware of anything being brought. Lo’ak smiles proudly as he pulls out a very beat up version of Monopoly.

He holds it up like a trophy, “Actually, dad, we did.” All attention went to him, and Tuk cheered. She loves board games, even though she never wins. 

Y/n smiles, “Everyone, let’s play. Please.”

The family doesn’t hesitate to gather in a circle as Lo’ak sets the game up. Y/n finally pulls away from Jake, but stays close to him. Sometimes all one needs to feel better is their father’s love, and game night with their family so the rage of their brothers can distract them from the anger within.

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[opera-is-not-cool]

fanfiction isn't enough i need every dialogue exchange of theirs etched into my bones and every scene of them together burned behind my eyelids until i know them better than i know my own skin, my hands, the sound of my name

[jjunieworld]

SO SOAKED ˒˒ 엔하이픈 ﹙ hyung line ! ﹚

╰┈⪼ in which you have shower sex with your boyfriend for the very first time.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ enha hyung line x afab!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 none!

genre﹙💬﹚⸝⸝⸝ scenerios/headcannons, smut, established relationship

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ shower sex, petnames (good girl, pretty girl), blowjob, slight throat fucking, head pusher!hee, wall fucking???, needy!jake, throat grabbing, clit stimulation, free use and dacryphilia if you squint really hard

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ this drove me crazy and it didn’t help that i was listening to so soaked by shy smith while writing it… enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

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𓏲 𖧷ˊ HEESEUNG

definitely would’ve been after a particularly messy session. the two of you were suppose to only take a simple shower… wash all of the previous session off of you… until you noticed how heeseung’s eyes kept traveling over your exposed body. then you were suddenly being pushed into the shower wall, cold tile and water against your skin as he pounded into you from behind.

“fuck—you’re so addictive,” heeseung groaned as his hips snapped against your ass. he had your hands pinned behind you in his tight grip that only tightened the more you tried to wiggle free to touch him. you whined loudly as the tip of his cock repeatedly hit your cervix with his relentless thrusts.

behind you, you heard heeseung chuckle. “yeah? you like that?” he asked, suddenly pulling out of you. you turned to look at him, whining loudly again at the loss.

suddenly you were being pushed down to you knees on the shower floor, the back of your head getting soaked from the shower stream. heeseung’s large cock brushed against your lips as you looked up at him with wide eyes. “if you do a good job, maybe i’ll let you cum again,” he said with a smirk.

immediately you wrapped your hands around the base of his cock, lips gliding over his tip as you slowly took in all of him. once you felt him in the back of your throat, you bobbed your head up and down while looking up at him. you rocked your hips against nothing, savoring the way heeseung threw his head back at the pleasure you were giving him.

his hand tangled in your wet hair and pushed your head down further onto his cock. “fuck…” heeseung muttered. he started to move his hips. “such a good girl.”

𓏲 𖧷ˊ JAY

what started as a simple shower together, nice and intimate as you helped wash each other’s bodies, quickly turned into a heated makeout session. then that session turned into jay slipping inside you as the stream of warm water overhead glided over the both of you.

jay’s hand glided over your thigh as his lips chased after yours when you pulled away to breathe. you moaned against them just as jay lifted your leg, gaining better access as he pushed in and out of you. it was achingly slow and you were grinding your hips up for more.

“please…” you begged against his lips. jay hummed, lips now trailing down your neck and making you shiver despite the hot water. you leaned your head back against the tile as you struggled to form words, your hips speaking for you as you grinded up further.

“faster,” you moaned out. you felt the vibrations of jay’s chuckle against your neck and he tapped your other thigh. you jumped slightly, wrapping your legs around jay’s bare hips as he pinned you tight against the wall. his lips latched onto yours again.

his once slow thrusts accelerated rapidly and you broke away from him to moan loudly. “fuck, jay!” you whined, burying your head in his neck. the hot stream of water did nothing to cool you down.

the rope in your stomach tightened and tightened until it snapped, making your nails bury deep into the back of jay’s neck and your cum drip down his hard cock. you breathed heavily as he continued to piston into you, cock twitching as he finally came inside you with a loud moan.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ JAKE

you were showering when you heard the bathroom door creek open and the sound of your boyfriend’s voice calling out your name. “jake?” you asked over the pouring water and freezing your movements. you peeked your head out behind the shower curtains to see what he wanted and was shocked to see him stripping off his clothes.

“what are you doing?” you giggled, resuming your shower. you were washing the soap off your body when you felt his firm hands grab your hips. he peppered kisses up your neck from behind you and you stretched your neck to give him better access.

jake’s arms wrapped around your waist. “i need you,” he practically moaned against your jaw. you felt his big cock press into your ass, it only growing more and more the longer he placed kisses onto your skin.

“you could’ve waited until after my shower,” you laughed as you turned around in his arms. immediately, his lips pressed hard into yours—catching you by surprise. he backed you up against the wall, hand dipping inbetween the two of you to grab his hard-on.

“can’t,” was all jake replied.

he spun you so faced away from him and lifted one of your legs high into the air. a soft moan escaped you as he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed into you, wasting no time with his quick pace. you pressed your hands flat against the tile of the shower and leaned your forehead against it at the stretch of his thick cock, whimpering at the way his hips slammed into you.

within no time jake’s warm load filled you, dripping out of you around his softening cock and down your thighs. you exhaled heavily as you turned to bring his mouth to yours. jake moved you under the water stream to clean you off before turning the knob to shut it off completely. “let me make you feel good now,” he said lowly at the shell of your ear before pulling you out the shower.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ SUNGHOON

after a particularly tiring day, you saw how stressed your boyfriend was and wanted to do something nice for him. it was your idea to let him use you as something of a stress reliever.

you saw the gears in his head turning despite his blank look at he stared at you with slightly narrow eyes. the two of you stood in your shared bathroom; you with a towel wrapped around your naked body and sunghoon fully clothed. “i can see how stressed you’ve been today, so use me,” you repeated yourself.

sunghoon’s arms were crossed against his chest and you could see the way his hands twitched at your request. to make your offer more enticing, you let the towel slip from your grasp, leaving you completely naked in front of him. the sound of your abandoned shower rang in your ears, filling up the silence as sunghoon’s eyes trailed your figure—not saying a single word.

in the blink of an eye he was stripping his clothes off until you were both bare. he grabbed your arm, yanking the curtain back so the two of you could step in. you didn’t have time to think as your back hit the tile wall and his lips were on yours. “use you?” sunghoon asked, pulling away briefly to speak. “you don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

you smiled coyly against his lips, hand going to pump his already hard cock. “because i will ruin you right where you stand,” he added, breath scattered. suddenly you were flipped around and being filled to the brim with his long cock, whimpering loudly as one of sunghoon’s hands came to rub circles onto your clit and the other trailing up your throat to make to look at him. you were pressed tightly against his chest as he fucked into you at a relentless speed.

loud and shameless moans fell from your mouth as you felt your walls flutter around him, taking in every inch of him. tears brimmed in your eyes as you made eye contact with him. his pupils were completely blown out, lust and desire clouding them. sunghoon lips curled up ever so slightly, “my pretty girl.”

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[oreo-creampie]

‘𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬’

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: size kink, teasing/mocking/encouragement/light degradation, toji bites you once, daddy/mama/princess, toji is very cocky with how you're boosting his ego, big dick toji struggling to get all of his cock in you, pain kink, choking, squirting, mind break, restriction but toji uses his size and weight to do so, manhandling, very light objectification, cock drunk!reader, pussy drunk!toji

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: Toji getting turned on by how small the reader is compared to him and then fucking them senseless?

Pinning your wrists above your head with one large, calloused hand. "Your sloppy little cunt is so beautiful takin' my cock. I knew she would be the moment I saw you." His thick cock stretching your sloppy sensitive cunt loose is already overwhelmingly after he just put it in.

"So fuckin' short, the way I can bend you in two and fuck you stupid. Nnng!" Toji keeps his groans low trying to hear you whine.

Twisting your hips, gliding your tight cunt on his cock. You can feel the soft ridge line of his cockhead tugging on your tight cunt. He's about to slip out when Toji rocks his hips forward, stroking your sweet spot, and reaching too deep.

Your toes curl, eyes rolling back, crying from the intensity. Toji scoffs, "I've just started lil mama n' you're strugglin' to take my fat cock already." Letting go of your wrists, sinking his thick fingers into your squishy hips’ crease. "Pitiful crybaby, aren't ya?" He rocks his hips forward, his well-defined abs clenching.

He groans, getting you off with the raspy sound. Each taunt, moan, and tremble of his large muscular body pushes you to take more from Toji. You can't get enough of overwhelming him with your cunt. Ignore the impending sense of breaking in his hands.

Toji could fuck your cunt into a mindless sleepy mess with your cunt gaping, dripping cum. You'll be sore, wanting more when wake up. "Can't help it, you're so big!" You can see his ego swell with his growing cocky smirk.

He lifts your hips off the bed. "Lil mama that was just half.” Thrusting forward, his balls heat your ass. Your eyes widen, jaw drops, digging your nails into his hard pecs. Scratching his chest, leaving pink lines leading towards his well-defined abs.

You whine in disbelief. "Daddy!" You can feel him beneath your belly button. Is he really that deep? “Too full! Too nnngg! Can't! Gonna break!" Toji roughly chokes you, lifting you off the bed and holding you upright.

You're a cock drunk flesh-light from how he roughly bounces you on his cock. Shifting his body, pressing your back to the wall, pinning you by your hip and neck. Your eyes roll back when your clit brushes his navel.

His large thumb under your chin forces you to look up at him. "You were too tight for me to get that last inch innnnn!" Clenching him, Toji shutters, closing his head, dropping his head to kiss you.

Splaying your fingers on his thick pecs and hard abs, feeling the latter flex with each thrust. You can't wiggle away from any of his thrusts, he's too big and strong. Breaking the kiss, loosening the grasp on your neck.

Crooning, "Such a tiny slut takin' all of my cock so well. And here you were whining it's too much." Dropping his hand to your hip, sinking his fingers into the taking the full brutal force of head rough hit from his cock.

Drowning you in an intense pleasure bordering on painful. "Is it! NNn" Is all you can manage, getting off on how small you feel in comparison to him. Toji is looming over you, pinning you to the wall. Bullying your squirting cunt with his fat veiny cock.

"Fuck lil princess your cunt is gushing drenching my balls n' making such a mess." Toji glides his cock out with a loud squelch. Firmly holding you to the wall by your squishy hips, dipping his head between your thighs.

Toji groans stuffing his face into your dripping cunt. Gliding his tongue into your sensitive sloppy cunt. “You taste so fuckin’ good mama.” Sucking on your clit, groaning, your toes curling from the sweet vibration.

Slipping his tongue into you, curling it, stroking your sweet spot. Squirming, his arms flex restricting your hips. You were going to feel him long after he went back to his apartment. "Wanna cum!" It drives you wild how you can feel him smirking into your cunt.

Your neediness and easily manhandled stature stroking his ego. "Greedy whore." Biting your thigh, close to your fat cunt. Sucking harshly, biting down hard when he pulls away. Crying, "Please!" He lets go, kissing the throbbing bite.

Pulling you off the wall, throwing you onto your bed face down. Grabbing your hips, "Hmm won't let up easily you're too damn short. Fuck you look so damn breakable, makes me want to ruin ya more." Stuffing a pillow beneath your body.

Lining his cock up, gliding it between your puffy wet lips. "Nnn the things you're makin' me feel princess. Don't get mad at me if ya can't walk after this." Rocking his hips forward, he fails to get the last couple of inches in on the first thrust.

"Wanna make your too tight cunt take my fat cock until she's gapin', drippin' cum." Hunching over you, grabbing your hair, yanking your head back. Using his weight in his thrust.

His large body stifles the lurch forward your body should have taken. "Hnn it's so damn easy to pin you down and fuck you. It's not even fair to your poor little cunt is it?" This angle adds more pressure, each stroke gliding over your sweet spot making you forget your name. And everything else but Toji.

He groans, "How is ya getting tighter lil princess? Fuck ya gonna cum again so easily? Am I just that good? Ya love my cock that much you wanna soak me again?"

oreo-creampie’s m.list

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

Series Masterlist

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been… thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

KINKTOBER 2024

summary: You need James as soon as you wake up, and he needs you.

warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, quickie, swearing

The morning light shines onto your face from behind the large, sheer, curtains in you and your boyfriend's bedroom. James's head is tucked against your chest, his breath tickling your neck as you stir awake, your tired eyes adjusting to the sun. 

James's stirs as a chain reaction to your movement and you freeze. "Sorry, love," you whisper and hold a hand behind his head, scratching his scalp as he hums with pleasure. James just shifts closer, hiking his leg onto your hip as he attempts to become more comfortable again.  

Even in your sleepy state, you're very aware of his morning wood against your thigh. 

You grin, blinking yourself fully awake as you turn around and straddle his stomach now. James grunts, finally opening his eyes as he lays on his back, messy curls splayed across the pillow and his hands slowly find your hips. 

"Mornin'," he says, his voice hoarse from sleep. 

You press your hands against his bare chest, leaning down and capturing his lips in yours. He responds immediately as his hands tighten around you and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

"Hi," you mumble against his lips, rocking your hips ever so gently against his happy trail. 

James's eyes narrow and he smirks. "What's this, mm? I didn't forget my birthday, did I?" he teases lightly, knowing damn well your sex life doesn't require birthday sex to be amazing. 

You shake your head, drawing small hearts on his chest as your rocking continues. You peek at his boxers from underneath you, seeing his dick straining against the material and you smile. "You look needy this morning. Wanna help you," you say. 

James looks down and groans, helping you rocking now. 

"You cheeky minx," he grumbles, voice thick with arousal. "I'm the needy one, huh? Did'you know that morning wood is completely normal—and that means you're the needy one, climbing onto me like this." James's hand travels up your nightdress and into your panties as he teases your skin where the hem is. You moan, leaning down and kissing around his pecks. 

"Jamie, please," you plead as he checks you.

"So wet already?" he chuckles, fully awake now as he admires how the sun hits your skin. "Don't even need to prep you, darling." 

You nod, needing more friction to your puffy clit. "Had a dirty dream about you," you admit shyly, "Please. You're being mean." 

"Mean?" James's hands tighten around your waist and suddenly hoists you up by your thighs, flipping you over. "You're the one who woke me up to your pussy pressed against my stomach, getting herself off. So, hm, how am I the mean one? How was that fair?" 

James scolds you playfully and slides your panties up your legs, throwing them to the side as he pulls down his boxers. Your eyes are wide and needy when you see his dick and your nails dig into his arms. "Please."

"Shh," he whispers as he easily guides his cock into your slick folds, your pussy so wet you offer no resistance, "There, shh, baby, shh. There. I got you, fuck, you feel so good." He's praising you and you feel like you're in heaven. Instantly, you wrap your legs around his hips as he thrusts into you just the way he knows you like in the morning. 

"My beautiful girl," James whispers as he kisses you, pulling on your lip as you use his arms to ground yourself. He loves the soft moans you're making. 

James groans, gripping the headboard above you as he curses. "Fuck, c-can't last very long—I–"

You nod, "I know, love. I know." You know he doesn't last long in the mornings and you don't care. Neither do you. You're both so goddamn horny. 

You focus on his thrusts and how he groans from above you, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. Your pussy clenches around him and that does it. You're lost in pleasure you don't even register he's spilled his cum inside you until you come down from your own high.

"Shit," James mutters, falling onto the mattress next to you as his chest heaves. 

You turn to him, an equally tired look on your face and you nuzzle into him, resting your head on his bicep. James smiles, pulling you in closer and kissing your forehead. He shuts his eyes for a moment. "As much as you know I love this, it isn't the best way to get us to wake up," he points out. 

You smile, eyes fluttering shut. "That's the point, my love," you whisper sleepily.

James chuckles and his hand which is massaging your scalp gradually puts you into a peaceful sleep and when James's head falls onto yours, you're both sleeping soundly again. 

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese, @longlivedelusion, @fangirl-swagg, @fruticake,, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader, @2dloveshp, @simplyreflected, @desi-brownie, @aunicornmademedoit

[evie-sturns]

pathetic - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after spending the whole day bickering with your boyfriend, the only option he gives you to get yourself off is to use his thigh.

contains: thigh riding, slight humiliation if you squint, desperate!reader, soft!dom matt

———————————- ——————————————-

i stay seated on the arm chair in the living room while matt manspreads on the couch, he’s been ignoring me for the past hour because i “was starting to piss him off”

i cross my legs on the chair as i observe matt, his top teeth slightly sinking into his bottom lip, his arms crossed showing all his tattoos.

his tattoos make me feel a certain way, they turn me on in times like these.

i squeeze my thighs together, desperate for some sort of relief from the ache between my legs

“matt” i say softly, his gaze moves from the tv over to me with a small hum

i toy with the straps of my white tank top, pulling them down to my mid biceps seductively

he instantly looks back at the tv dismissively, i let out a small puff of air frustratedly

“matt” i repeat, my eyes burning into his side profile

he doesn’t respond.

“i need you matt- i need your hands.. anything.” i say, matt looks over at me

“c’mere.” he demands, pointing to the spot infront of him on the floor.

i instantly spring up off the arm chair, speed walking over to the spot infront of matt on the floor, i look down at him on the couch.

“shorts off.” he says, i shimmy my brandy melville shorts down to my ankles before stepping out of them.

“take your tank top off cause you were so desperate to 5 minutes ago.”

i follow his instructions, pulling off my tank top.

i stand fully revealed in front of matt, studying his face carefully.

he pats his right thigh, i hesitate for a second before straddling his thigh.

i feel embarrassed for a second, sitting completely bare on matt’s thigh which is clothed, just like the rest of his body.

he goes back to watching the tv, i go to reach for the waist band of his pyjama pants but he grabs my wrist “nope” he says quietly.

i whine out of embarrassment before slowly starting to rock back and forth on his leg.

“oh fuck-“ i whisper out, placing my hands on his shoulders for support

i repeatedly brush my clit against the fabric of his pants, earning loud whimpers from me.

i flip my head forward, resting on his shoulder as my hair drapes over his chest and neck.

with each rock on his thigh i let out a loud moan “such a fucking slut oh my god.” matt breathes out, almost amused.

my cheeks flush, matt stays looking foward at the tv not paying much attention to me desperately trying to get myself off on his thigh.

i whimper directly into his ear, feeling myself get close

“good girl, let me help you— come all over my thigh” matt speaks before pushing his thigh up, putting more pressure on my clit.

“matt!—“ i call out, squeezing my eyes shut

“so worked up.” he says with a smile, grabbing my hips and pressing me down onto him

“look at you, riding my leg, humping all over my thigh.” matt gently laces his hand into the back of my hair, bringing my head away from his shoulder

he tilts my head down to look at where we meet, his pants which now have a reasonably large damp spot.

my mouth goes slack, matt palms himself with his free hand through his pants, relieving some pressure.

“matt oh my god—“ i whine, my head falling fowards into his chest

matt presses his thigh up again, i let out a loud moan of his name, my nails scratching his shoulders as i feel my orgasm crash over me

all the pleasure i just felt hitting me at once, i arch my back. matt groans at the sight, he can now feel me pulsating on his leg.

i slowly come to a stop, the stimulation becoming too much as i pull back from matt’s chest and lock eyes with him. his cheeks are flushed and he has a small innocent smile on his face.

i’m a panting mess as i glance down between my legs at the mess i made.

“you were wet” he laughs slightly

“me?” i say with a small smirk, pointing down at the very obvious patch that matt’s attempting to cover with his hand

“you’re acting tough when you came in your pants” i tease,

“you’re acting tough like you didn’t just get yourself off on my actual thigh for 10 minutes.” he bites back,

i go to open my mouth again but matt stops me

“you’re acting tough like you weren’t begging me to touch you then ended up resorting to rubbing yourself on my clothes.” he follows up his last comment

i cover my face with my hands “shut up!!” i smile, “go get changed pretty” matt laughs, tapping my hip.

i slowly lift myself off of him, stumbling over to the pile of clothes on the floor.

“sorry about your pants.” i say while redressing myself in the small amount of fabric i had on earlier

“don’t apologise, that shit was so hot.” matt says back, i shake my head with a grin on my face.

i flop back down on the couch next to matt, he reaches a hand out and fixes my messy hair.

just then i hear the door unlock, followed by chris walking inside “sorry guys, gotta piss” he says frantically while jogging over to the stairs with a small glance at us.

“matt why the fuck are your pants so wet did you piss yourself?” he calls out as he runs up the stairs

matt’s eyes widen, his cheeks instantly flushing again

“i spilt water!” he calls out.

——————

hey guys!! i hope you liked this it was really fun to write

also billie’s world tour wtf?? AND NOT COMING TO NZ but it’s okay i’m going to australia im so excited STOP

@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209

[iluvpjo]

HII SO I HAD THIS IDEA SOME TIME AGO AND IT CAME BACK INTO MY HEAD YESTERDAY SO :^

Imagine you play a role in pjo maybe silena or something and ure at the pjo premier with everyone else (ure dating charlie) n you and charlie dissapear for a bit and when you come back everyone is confused and is whispering like 'why is she walking so wierd?' SKSKDKDKFK IM SORRY

Also can i be 🌻 anon??

REMEMBER TO EAT ENOUGH AND STAY HYDRATED !!

𝒲𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐹𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝒲 / 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝑒 𝐵𝓊𝓈𝒽𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓁

(Walking funny w/ Charlie bushnell)

Synopsis: (read the request basically for a longer version) basically u n charlie hangout n when u come back ur walking funny 😋

Warning(s): NSFW! MDNI, I don’t think um there has to be anymore warnings…

Pairing: Charlie Bushnell x fem reader

Word count: 1,315K

Note: HEHE hi 🌻 anon!!! Welcome n ily, also ur brain is so smart n sexc for this!!!

*also guys just so yk if u can’t tell I write fics differently to how I write THIS kinda stuff beforehand 😭 like I write silly here but not during my fics ^^

Send me a request! Here’s my req rules :)

Come find me on AO3!

There were loud yet hushed noises echoing around the bathroom that shielded the two of you from the rest of your cast mates, hiding you both away so you could get a quick quickie in before joining everyone. Inside the bathroom stall the two of you were on each other, your teeth clashing as your skin slapped against skin. It was hot and it was lewd, and you were sure you’d die of embarrassment if the two of you ever got caught like this.

“C-Charlie, hurry.. we’ve gotta get back to the premier!” You complained through your teeth, pouting your makeup covered lips. You were sure that your stylist would kill you for ruining your makeup and hair, your mascara was slightly smudged in the corners from your eyes watering — you couldn’t help tearing up a little when Charlie would stimulate you like this. Your lipstick was also a mess, and Charlie knew he’d have to wash your kiss marks off of his neck at the sink before leaving the bathroom together.

“I know sweetheart, but you wanted this remember?” He asked in a bit of a condescending tone, his lips curling up into a smirk as he kept standing there in front of you between your legs. “I- I know..” You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, pouting your lips and furrowing your eyebrows at him like you were upset at him. But he knew you weren’t, he simply chuckled and shook his head at your pouty reaction, scoffing and mumbling that you were very ‘cute’ when you acted like this.

“I’m not cu- ah!~” Your complaints were cut off by Charlie when he thrusted deeper inside of you, pressing harshly against your cervix and making your stomach ache a little “Hold that thought sweet girl. Unless you don’t wanna cum?” Charlie tilted his head at you as he asked that with this smug smile on his face. “Of course I do!-“ He cut you off again “Tut. Tut. Then be quiet for me sweet girl, I don’t want anyone catching us like this..” Charlie chuckled a little to himself as he watched you accept and grumble to yourself a little.

Charlie moved you carefully so that you were in a better position for the both of you, you were bent over and your arms were holding yourself against the wall. Charlie was standing behind you, his hands gripped tightly on your hips as he rocked himself back and forth inside of your tight pussy. You weren’t the best at taking it from behind, the position would always be a little too much for you— but Charlie wanted you to take it today. He knew you’d have a harder time staying quiet but he wanted to challenge you, plus he found it really cute how you were trying your hardest to stay quiet (even if you were failing!)

“C-Charlie..~” You groaned out, your legs trembling underneath you as his cock kept hitting against your fleshy insides. Your wet slick was dripping onto him, covering his large cock as well as dripping down your thighs a little. “Yes, my love?” Charlie asked you with a hushed voice, “f-feels good..” You whined out and bit down on your bottom lip to muffle your moans. “Yeah sweetheart? It feels good does it? Let me help you feel even better..” You didn’t have any time to question what he meant, he lifted your right leg up and started hitting inside of you at a different angle which had you close to seeing stars.

You removed one of your arms from holding onto the wall, having to use it to cover your mouth. Your moans were muffled, but it didn’t mean that they were silent “mfhh!~ ah!~ fuckk’” You cried out as Charlie’s cock ruthlessly pounded into you from behind. “Fuck.. Sweet girl, I’m gonna cum..” Charlie warned you and you just nodded at him, encouraging him to just keep going. Charlie hissed under his breath as he had to keep quiet as well, letting out a soft gutters groan when he began to cum.

His cock twitched before spurting out his hot seed which painted your insides white, a bit of his cum dripping from your cunt. Charlie took a moment as he had a breather before he then slammed back inside of you, he felt a little more sensitive but he had a goal to make you cum as well. You threw your head back in pleasure, squirming against him when the tip of his cock entered you deeper and got pressed to the hilt. You couldn’t control yourself anymore and you began to cum, your eyes teary and your legs shakey as your pussy clenched tightly around him and came.

“Fuck’ C-Charlie I love you!~” You cried out as you came, your orgasm hitting you roughly like a huge wave. “I love you too sweetheart.” Charlie helped you as you began to recover from your orgasm, helping you sit up against his chest. Your legs wanted to give out, shaking and hurting from just standing there but luckily Charlie was holding onto your waist now. “Don’t worry sweet girl, I’ve got ‘ya.” Charlie reassured you as he slowly helped you clean up a little and get dressed, pulling your panties up and pulling your dress back down etc..

“T-That felt really good.. L-Let’s get back to the premier before they realise we’re gone!” You told him and tried to hurry, Charlie paused you for a moment as he had to quickly use the sink to wash off the lipstick marks. As he looked in the mirror cleaning himself he replied to you and said “I think it might be a little too late for that dear.” He spoke “What? No.. it’ll be fine, I don’t think they even noticed!!!” You were lying to yourself and Charlie could see it, but he wouldn’t say anything because he didn’t wanna embarrass you.

(There’s more writing btw)

“Hey, where’s Y/n and Charlie gone? They’ve been gone for a bit now and the premier is about to start!” Leah complained and began to fidget in her seat as she looked around for them, her head turning and trying her best to look behind the rest of the people sitting around hoping to find them each somewhere in the crowd. “It hasn’t been that long, has it?” Walker asked her and squinted his eyes a bit, Leah huffed and pulled her phone out to show him the time.

“Didn’t we get here almost an hour ago?” Walker questioned as he saw the time “Like around five I think. They’ve both been gone almost the entire time we’ve been here!” Aryan joined the conversation as he heard the two of them talking. They were all discussing about where they thought that you and Charlie would be that they didn’t notice when the two of you actually joined them, only turning their heads around to see you two when Dior spoke up.

“Wait— why’s Y/n walking like that?” Dior whispered to herself, blinking in confusion as she watched. Walker and Leah leaned forward to look past Aryan and Dior, Walker letting out a bit of a laugh “Haha! She really is walking weirdly. Why do you think that is?” Walker gossiped to Leah and Aryan “No idea.” Aryan shrugged his shoulders.

“Sorry we were gone guys! I uh— we got held up.” You excused yourself and sat down beside Dior, Dior looked over at you and was about to say something until she noticed your flushed face and messed up hair. She shut her mouth, turning away and gigging a little to herself, she knew exactly why you were walking weirdly now. Aryan heard her laughing and looked over at you too to figure out what was going on, and he sorta got a bit of an idea too but wasn’t quite sure.

[azsazz]

Shots & Spins

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @kristijenner19: I saw you were thinking about hockey!AZ because same. How about a fic where she's a figure skater and they're trying to teach each other their respective sports. Imagine poor Az trying to do a spin/jump/twizzle and a reader who can barely ever make a shot into a goal

Bonus points if they switch their skates and have to re-learn how to skate with the new blade

Warnings: Mild panic attack, mentions of readers injury (torn ACL), trauma from coaches (verbal) mentioned.

Word Count: 3088

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown

HOCKEY SZN SOON MY LOVES 💙💙

Notes: I swear I meant to make this cuter but of course, I had to give it some angst 😅

_________________________________________

“What is this?” You question. You’re probably being rude, with your nose scrunched in disgust. With the way you’re holding the pair of skates as far away from your body as possible, you’re pretty sure you look like the biggest bitch on all of campus. But for the life of you, you can’t figure out why Azriel has handed you hockey skates.

“They’re skates,” Azriel answers. You rip your glare from the offending skates at his obvious response. Your heart stumbles in your chest at the sight of his pink lips twitching, begging to reveal that grin he spends most of his time expertly hiding.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning closer in anticipation, so eager to see that smile until the hitch of his breath snaps you back to consciousness.

You rock back on your heels so quickly you nearly tumble over. Would tumble over if it weren’t for Azriel’s quick reflexes, his large hands enveloping your waist and steadying you back on your feet.

“Thanks,” you reply flatly, dipping your chin to the ground to hide your flaming cheeks. There’s not an ounce of amusement in your body.

“You’re welcome.” You don’t like the smugness in his tone or the way he’s playing with you. Tilting your face back up, you muster all the annoyance lancing through your veins at his retort, shooting him the nastiest glare.

“That’s not what I meant, Az, and you know it. Why am I holding a pair of hockey skates?”

Azriel sits on the bench beside the empty arena, and you want to pout. Why would you want to spend any more time at the rink than you already do? You’re bone-fucking-tired and your knee is feeling stiff. You overdid it in practice this week, trying to get back into the shape you were in before the time you’d been forced to take off, and it’s hitting you hard. All you really want to do is crawl home, roll out your muscles, and dive into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

When you don’t join Azriel, he says, with a humor you don’t feel, “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little bet. Or how you so gracefully lost it.”

Of course you hadn’t forgotten. Who could forget losing at something as simple as a race across the arena? Afterwards, you tried to blame it on the differences in the ice, how it was colder and harder than you were used to, as it was prepared for the hockey team’s game later that weekend.

A rookie mistake, honestly. One that you’ve been kicking yourself over up until this very moment. Well, if you could kick with your injured leg, that is, you’d be doing just that.

You grind your teeth as a memory rises to the forefront of your mind. Your coach’s voice rings in your head, shrill and reprimanding. Why would you take such foolish chances? You need to get your head in your sport or you’re never going to make it on the Olympic team, let alone the University team.

Shame presses down on you, and your eyes prick at the criticism you should be used to by now. Your private coach from your time before Velaris University, Amarantha, had been very creative with her insults, always coming up with comments worse and harsher to cut down any semblance of confidence you had in your sport.

You bet she’s thrilled that you won’t be back in her presence until you’re healed enough. If you heal enough to relearn the very trick that took you out of the running for the Olympic team in the first place.

It must be a thing, coaches insulting their prodigies. You glance at Azriel from the corner of your eye and wonder if his coach is the same way. If Rhys is brutal with his teammates.

And you hate losing. It was Azriel who you wished forgotten about the bet you’d so stupidly agreed to, but here he is, wearing the same look that got you into this position in the first place.

You take your time studying him as you mull over how to get out of this. Azriel’s broad shoulders take up the space of two people, and his deep, dark hair falls over his brow, growing out into the perfect flow all the players seem to be sporting right now. You wonder if it’s superstition or they actually like the look. His thick lashes sweep as he bats them, and your cheeks take on a pink hue as he pretends to preen under your attention.

“Look,” he all but sighs, giving up his act. He leans back, reaching over to grab something out of sight. When Azriel rightens himself, he holds a pair of figure skates, a sheepish smile on his face. The apples of his cheeks mottle with pink. “I got myself figure skates, so we can both look like fools out there. Together.”

Fuck. The sentiment makes your throat tighten. He doesn’t have to be so damn thoughtful, you’re hardly even friends for Mother’s sake.

“Fine,” you manage when you can speak again. You plop onto the bench beside him. Your knee throbs dully in protest, but it’s nothing you haven’t been able to smother before. You’ve worked through worse conditions than hockey prepped ice, have skated in casts and aches so deep you weren’t sure you’d be able to compete at all if it weren’t for your raw love for the sport and your brutal stubbornness, holding yourself to the highest of standards.

And it’s not like you’re going to be doing your usual tricks. No, that’s all Azriel. All you have to manage is a few forward spirals, twizzles, and perhaps an axel just to show off a little, because there’s no way he’ll be able to recreate all of that in one go.

You just hope your knee stays steady for a few more hours.

The both of you lace your shoes in silence. The hockey skates are so different from your figure skates, you note. The blade is much thicker than you’re used to, more curved too. The boots are shorter, and you grimace at the lack of ankle support.

Not to mention you’re not entirely sure how well you’ll be able to stop without your toe pick.

Azriel leads you to the ice. You step on tentatively, giving the new skates a test. They have a lot more give than you’re used to. They’re not as snug, but easy enough to navigate. Muscle memory kicks in and after a few sluggish runs up and down the ice, you think you’ve gotten the hang of it.

The rest of this bet should be a breeze, especially compared to how Azriel is faring.

His face is contorted with a concentrated frown. He looks stiff as a fucking board, which make you giggle and him complain about. “How the hell do you wear these things? I can barely even move my ankles!”

“Practice makes perfect, young Padawon,” you tease, testing how best to shift your weight on the new blades. The pressure on your knee isn’t terrible, thanks to the looseness of the hockey skates.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azriel waves you off. He trails behind you at a slower rate, focused on getting used to the stiffness of the figure skates on his feet. “Just wait until we scrimmage.”

Ugh, no thanks. This is just perfect for you, the both of you out on the open ice, all alone. You don’t want to ruin this peaceful bliss by bringing your competitive personalities into it.

“I knew if we raced under different conditions I’d have won!” You exclaim, zipping past Azriel again, showing off. He glares playfully, but you’re much too busy admiring your skates to notice the way he’s tucked his lip between his teeth, hiding a satisfied grin.

His toe pick digs into the ice, grinding down as he gets a feeling for the foreign piece, but his eyes stay glued on you.

“Ready for a stick and gloves already, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” you throw a smirk back in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking a brow. “You ready for twizzling?”

“Twizzlers?”

You roll your eyes at his lame joke, but your heart still skips at his wry smile. It’s more than cute. You push off your blade, moving closer to him.

Which is fine, until you try to use your toe pick to stop, only for the realization to hit that there isn’t one on these skates.

You go barreling into Azriel, who catches you in his arms. Your motion throws him off balance and before you even have the chance to squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself, you’re both falling to the ice.

Azriel hits with a grunt that reverberates through your bones. You’d think that Azriel breaking your landing would be less painful than it is, but with the way the muscle is packed on his body, he’s just as hard as the ice that’s no longer beneath your feet.

“Sorry,” you cringe. It comes out breathless and embarrassment flushes your cheeks, but you’re frozen to your spot and all too aware of how his large, warm hands are wrapped firmly around your waist.

“No worries.” Your lashes flutter as his breathy whisper caresses your face. He’s probably just winded, that’s why he sounds like that. Yes, that’s exactly what it is. “Didn’t think to remind you how to stop.”

“I know how to stop,” you argue, but there’s none of your usual fire tainting the words. You can’t even muster one of your famous glares that you reserve for the normally broody hockey player. You break eye contact as the humiliation begins creeping in. You scratch your nail distractedly down the waffled fabric of his olive colored henley. “I just…forgot, I guess.”

The hitching of his breath in his chest shifts your body and you jolt, the situation slamming into you like a truck.

You scramble off Azriel, grimacing at the sound of your blades clinking against his. His grip loosens, hands falling away as you slip to the ice beside him.

You shoot to your knees, then not-so-carefully climb to your feet. Azriel holds his hands out from where he’s still lying on the ground, like he’s more than ready to catch you again should you fall.

You’re positive the heat of your cheeks could melt the entire arena’s ice right now. You need to get the fuck out of here before you embarrass yourself further. You need to never show your face around here again. You’ve already transferred schools once, what’s one more time?

Azriel calls your name, but you hardly hear him over your racing thoughts. If the sheer embarrassment wasn’t enough, Coach Weaver’s voice now fills the rest of your head, screeching about your recklessness and how you could’ve injured yourself—

He’s quicker than you thought, or you’ve been trapped in your mortified headspace for too long because Azriel’s on his feet, towering over you and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles and his hands tighten around you. He lets you bury your face into his chest and pretends not to notice the tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. You’re fucking trembling, and his heart is pounding just as hard.

This is all his fault.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” he tries to console. He looks around frantically, like one of the sports therapist students or coaches might be walking past the rinks this late at night. There’s no soul in the building besides the both of you, everyone resting for their busy weekends of competitions and away hockey games. “Please.”

You focus on his words, how he guides you, three seconds in, three seconds out. You focus on the soothing patterns he’s drawing down your back, focus on the beating of his heart and latch onto his scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Sorry,” you croak when you finally manage to calm yourself and slide a step back. Your gaze sits pointedly on the ice. You don’t want him to see you like this, a woman who’s about to fucking crumble.

“Don’t be,” Azriel says softly. His hand finds your face, and as much as you don’t want him to, he lifts your chin. You don’t fight it, emotionally exhausted. You should have asked for a raincheck, but you can admit to the fact that Azriel’s gentle touch is a comfort that you can’t help but lean into.

Sad, hazel eyes meet yours. They’re more golden brown than green, a forest of hues backlit by a burst of gold. Your breath hitches as he drags a thumb softly across your lips. They part, even though you don’t mean them to, and the whisper of breath that leaves you passes over his hand, crawls up his arm, and sends shivers down his spine.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure you can hold yourself together enough to answer his question without completely melting into a puddle at his feet.

Your silence must be answer enough. Azriel takes both of your hands in his own and guides you back toward the bench where you left your shoes. His grip is reassuring, and you’re so tired that you don’t even have it in yourself to sling a witty remark his way.

For what might be the first time in your life, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

You can’t even muster a chuckle at the way he stumbles over the toe pick on his way off the ice, or the way you’re waddling in these skates. You feel anything but graceful and strong right now, but with Azriel’s hand in yours, it’s not as off-putting as you feared it might be.

“Sit,” he says, keeping his fingers clasped around yours as you heed his command. It brings you eye-level to his hands, puckered and pink and scarred to hell. They’re beautiful in every way. He embraces his story, and it’s an incredible strength, one you’re much too terrified of attempting to recreate.

“Azriel, no,” you protest, jolting forward when he lowers himself to his knees before you. You plant your hands on his shoulders, ready to force him away because you’re more than capable of taking your own skates off.

He catches your wrists, and you didn’t think his eyes could soften any more, but they do, and you melt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of this for you.”

You try to swallow past the knot in your throat to thank him but are unable to. Instead, you nod and reluctantly sit back.

Azriel’s gentle with his movements, like you’re a wild doe that he’s helping free from a snare. He unties the tight knots, and your heart pinches when he struggles for a moment. You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching so intently, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Like he knows you need to see this.

You carefully keep your mind from wandering into how good he looks like this before you.

He slips the first skate off, and you stretch your toes. It’s a reflex. Azriel smiles, peeking up at you just in time to catch your blush. His gaze ducks away before you become embarrassed, setting your foot down and holding your other ankle, lifting to get to work.

You hiss softly at the ache in your knee.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laces his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no,” you cringe a little at the lingering sting. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetheart.” Azriel says sternly. Seriously. “That reaction wasn’t nothing. What’s wrong?”

You sigh, defeated in more ways than one. You don’t want to admit that the injury that threw your entire career off-kilter is acting up again. You’d rather not have anyone know.

Perhaps Azriel is different. Or, maybe he’s forcing you, because the gold in his eyes is intense, pinning you to your spot. His mouth is set in a straight, firm line. He looks like he means fucking business.

You avert your gaze. You’ve never admitted defeat like this, but if Azriel can wear his scars so proudly, maybe you can too.

“I tore my ACL a few months ago.” You admit, sniffling. You can feel the shock in Azriel’s gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s the first person at this school outside of your coach who’s hearing it. You’ve never been so vulnerable, especially with someone you hardly know. You press on nonetheless. “It’s been fine up until now.” A white lie. “But it’s been a little sore since I started practicing my jumps again.”

“How many months is ‘a few’?” He questions, and he’s not going to like the answer, so you opt for brushing over it.

“I’ll go back to seeing my therapist,” you offer instead, but even you’re not too sure how much truth your words hold.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Azriel says, and you don’t want his sympathy, but you’re too exhausted for your usual anger to stir to life. “You need to take care of yourself, before it gets any worse.”

His sentiment has your nose stinging, eyes prickling once again. What the fuck is wrong with you these days? Get it together, girl. You can cry in your own room, not in front of the hot boy who’s helping you with your godsdamned shoes.

You drag your gaze back to his. “I will.” You think.

He studies you for a moment before nodding, accepting your answer whether he believes it or not. You don’t have it in yourself to care right now. No, you just want to be back in the safety of your dorm.

Azriel is even more careful removing this skate and helping you slip into your shoes. He makes quick work of his own, and while his head is down, you admire his stature. Broad shoulders and chest that tapers into a tight waist, an ass for days.

You’re not done drooling over him when he stands, offering you a hand.

You slip your palm into his, ignoring the electricity that zips down your arm. You’re hyperaware of him by your side, and it’s only when he’s absolutely sure that you’re steady on your feet that he drops your hand.

You try not to feel too disappointed at the loss.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Azriel offers, and you trail him from the arena, your heart feeling a bit fuller with the nickname.

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Interstate 40 | Tyler Owens x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You go into labor. 

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Thanks for requesting. xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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! Warning: child birth, blood, pain !! 

You were out at the barn, filling the chickens feed and water when Tyler stormed into the barn. You’re pretty sure you saw smoke coming out of his ears, his face red. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks immediately taking the scoop from you, “you’re supposed to be resting! Doctor’s order!” His eyes are large as he stares at you. 

You wave him off, “Tyler come on, I’ve been doing this the entire pregnancy. Nothing new to me.” You yank the scoop back from him, “I was going stir crazy laying in bed.” 

You were 9 months pregnant, 39 weeks to be exact, ready to go into labor at any time. Your body was ready, but baby Owens had yet to say they were ready just yet. Your doctor had told you to take it easy after a fainting spell. Everything checked out, baby Owens was perfectly healthy and your doctor gave you the green light to head back home and get some rest. 

Tyler had took this very seriously, making you stay in bed, and insisted on waiting on you hand and foot. He’d only left you alone for an hour to run into town to get groceries. 

“What if something happened out here while I was gone? huh? What if you fainted and hit your head or something?” 

You sigh, seeing his point, “I’m sorry.” You frown, “but Tyler, really I was going crazy. I needed to do something.” 

“knit the baby a blanket. Something where you’re not on your feet.” He grabs your shoulders, leading you out the barn. 

“Tyler-” you groan, “you know I don’t know how to knit!” 

“Perfect time to learn then.” 

As the two of you near the porch, you get a cramp in your stomach. It wasn’t too strong, but you noticed it. “ooh.” You clinch your eyes shut, placing a hand on your stomach, and bending over slightly.

“What? Oh god, is it time? See I told you-” 

“Tyler, chill.” You take a deep breath, the pain easing. “I’m sure it’s just Braxton hicks. I’m fine. I’ve been having them every little while.” 

“are they consistent?” 

You shrug, “I honestly don’t know. I haven’t paid too much attention. That’s the first one that's been more intense.” You start up the stairs of the porch. 

“You could be in labor.” Tyler says following you, “We probably need to head to the hospital.” 

“I promise I am not. We’ll know for sure when it's time.” You sigh, taking a seat on the rocking chair. 

“You’ll let me know if they get worse right? You know the nearest hospital is an hour away.” He warns. “You have to let me know in time. I am not delivering our baby on the side of the highway.” 

~ 

“You told me they were Braxton hicks!” He argues. He’s currently speeding down the interstate, swerving in and out of traffic. People are honking left and right. 

You let out a scream, hand gripping his shirt in one hand and the other on the grab handle. 

Tyler screams with you, in full blown panic mode. You were still 45 minutes away from the nearest hospital. Your water had broke a little bit ago and soon after that the contractions began to get more and more intense, and closer in time. Your labor was progressing fast. 

You’re doing your lamaze breathing, trying to stay calm, “I’ve never been in labor before, how was I supposed to know I was actually in labor?!” 

You groan as another wave of a contraction hits, “Tyler something-” You reach down to feel, bringing your hand back up, fingers covered in blood. “S-Something is wrong.” 

Tyler glances at your hand, his heart drops, face going pale. if something happens to you.. or the baby. He’d never forgive himself. He shouldn’t have left. He should have forced you to go to the hospital earlier. His foot goes heavy on the gas, engine revving loudly. 

A new feeling shows itself, “I feel like I need to shit-” Your eyes are wide, staring at Tyler. “Tyler- oh fuck I’m about to have this baby on the side of the god damn interstate, aren’t I?” 

“Don’t panic-” He knew enough from hearing stories to know what that meant. That was the key indicator baby was coming and it was coming NOW. “but yes.” 

“oh my god!” 

He’s immediately pulling the truck to the side, horns blaring as he cuts someone off. He comes to a skidding stop, jumping out of the truck. He’s throwing the door open on your side in a split second. Now it’s him who is calm. He’s rolling up his sleeves, pulling out his phone to call 911. He’s delivered a calf before. Same thing right? 

“I am NOT having this baby in your truck!” Your panicked eyes find his calm ones, shaking your head. “I can wait until the hospital.”

“You have no choice.” He helps you slide out of your pants in the seat, simultaneously telling the 911 dispatcher what’s going on, your location and gathering supplies he needs. Where did this calm, collected Tyler come from? He was panicking only 30 seconds ago. 

You scream, a searing pain felt down below. 

Tyler peeks and sees a head full of hair, his eyes widen, “you definitely can’t wait. baby is coming now. push baby-” 

It only took one push before Tyler caught the baby, laying her on your chest and drying her off with a towel. “it’s a girl!”

Emotions are running high. Tears are being shed. You’d just given birth, Tyler delivering your daughter. Your heart drops; she’s quiet on your chest, “Why isn’t she crying?”

“Come on baby girl-” He finally stimulates her enough and she lets out a loud cry. It triggers more tears from both you and Tyler. A sigh of relief. 

Tyler’s kissing you through the tears, “You did so great baby.” A proud smile on his lips as he stares at his two girls. He cups your face in his hands, “That was fucking amazing.” 

~

The EMS showed up not long after, checking over you and the baby. Both healthy. They get you on the stretcher, your baby girl wrapped in a blanket in your arms. As the emotions of your baby being earth side, the reality hits you. You gasp, “Tyler.” You cover your mouth in shock. 

“Hmm?” He hums, looking up from your daughter. 

“I just gave birth to our daughter in your truck on the side of the interstate.”  

He chuckles, “Yeah you did. That was more bad ass than getting caught in the middle of a tornado.” 

~ 

Don’t know how I feel about this one. I had a whole vision but writing it out proved to be difficult. 

Comments, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

[trashmouth-richie]

frangere me | break me | 🥀 [3.4k] emperor geta x reader

dulcis ut rosa || dulex

vitiosus + deliciosus || ad caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

18+ smut, violence, talks of war

The stone wall bit into the tender flesh of your back. With your head thrown back, a silent moan etched itself across your face. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and Geta responded with a groan against the column of your throat, a deep thrust pistoning so hard the paintings hung beside you fell in a loud crack to the marbled floor.

It had been like this for months. What started as a midnight affair blossomed into fucking in broad daylight. The thrill of being caught making the lust for one another heighten to the Gods above. Each time was better than the last. Geta quickly became attuned to your body. 

You pleasured him beneath his desk as he discussed military stations and territories with his generals, his poker face never faltering— only hitting the large desk with a fist as he came hot and heavy in your mouth. 

He had you screaming in the middle of the coliseum, the sand rubbing against your forearms as he rocked his mighty cock into you, a whip in his right hand slapping your ass with glee. 

Fucking Geta was sinfully erotic, filthy and savory. A favorite time of yours was when you were face to face, a shared orgasm breathing between you as your hips circled his cock in the balineum, water splashing and slapping around you. 

His was during the light of dawn when he took your hand pulling you to where his throne was perched in the throne room. Geta was gentle as he kissed you, his fingers were feather light touches against your molten skin, he knelt before you as you leaned back in his throne chair, his laurel wreath crown balancing on your head. 

He licked and bit at your thighs. Suckling on your clit as he whispered, “mea imperatrix,” working you through the earth shattering orgasm as you coated his tongue. 

You couldn’t get enough of him, and he of you. The wall of this palace held many secrets, but yours and Geta’s was by far the most delicate of all.

—

Goosebumps prickled your skin as Geta ran blunt nails down your back. It was nearly daybreak, yet you still hadn’t left his chambers, how could you when his arms were wrapped around you pleading for you to stay with him just a little longer. 

You’re drifting to sleep against his chest when his breath fans against your ear, “you have not bled this month.” 

“Hm?” you mumble sleepily, a yawn drawing past your lips.

Sitting up in his bed, Geta hooks a finger under your chin. “Do not be coy, my dulcis… you haven’t bled yet, have you?” 

Stretching the kinks from your arms and spine, you rise to your knees, peeling your warmed skin from his, still sticky with the grape wine you poured down your chest and Geta had licked off just hours before. 

You met his eyes as they traveled across your body, “the month is not over, there are still days left for the cycle to begin.” 

Geta’s eyes continue descending down your bare body before him. The beautiful curves and supple skin he dined on, pinched between his fingers any chance he could get. He had claimed you every night and day for half of this year, and he’d continue doing so until his death. 

His chest rose and fell heavily as he scrubbed his hands down his face, “we have not been careful, my seed drips between your legs at this very moment.” 

Reaching for his hands you delicately pull them from his face so you can stare into his dark eyes. The torture this man was battling internally would one day consume him, and you tried your hardest to keep him afloat. 

“I have never missed my cycle, and I won’t this month either. I know the way my body works.” 

Geta grabs your wrist and kisses your open palm, “I know every inch of your body better than the maps of Rome on my desk. You smell sweeter, your breasts are fuller, I can tell by the way you whine and purr with pleasure that your nipples are significantly tender, more than usual.” 

You frown, pulling your eyebrows together before he swoops you up and lays you down, kissing your neck as you giggle. His face dangles inches above yours. “All of Rome will know our secrets when you start showing.” 

You move his face from your neck and hold his cheeks in your hands, rubbing against the rough midnight stubble collecting on his jaw.

When dawn creeped into the last dark drink of night, Geta was the most handsome to you— when the sleep drug heavy on his eyelids and those salmon tinted lips moved lazily when he spoke. Moving a lock of untamed honey from his forehead you admire him wholly. 

“We don’t know that I’m carrying for sure. For all we know, my love, this could be the work of Mercury.” 

Geta sighed deeply, “do not mistake my worry for ignorance. I would fill you with my heirs every year for the rest of our lives if that’s what you wanted. My worry isn’t about you bearing my child, it’s about the other that rules half of this kingdom.”

“Then maybe it is time for the unveiling of this adulterous devotion.” Pulling yourself up to his mouth, you slot your lips between his. Kissing him deep until your tongues join and you can feel the tension and worry seep from him. 

Geta slides down resting his body gently onto yours, “Not until a crown lay on your head and you stand next to that reptilian infant before the gods— no adultering has been made.” 

“And you’d want to wait for that moment?” you question. 

He bit your lip with his teeth until you squealed, and his tongue lapped up the single drop of blood that appeared, “I will stand before Rome tomorrow if I thought it meant you being mine was equal to your safety… Caracalla will not take this union and betrayal of ours lightly.” 

“I thought my bloodthirsty lover would kill any man who threat—”

Geta laughs darkly, “Caracalla is not a threat— merely an annoyance who uses others for his dirty work, but he is vile, and will go to extreme lengths to destroy anyone who crosses him… rest assured my little wicked thing—I have plans for him. My taste for bloodlust has not lost me yet.” 

He smiles then like a man gone mad, your blood staining the crooks of his teeth. 

“I will wait however long… but let’s not bother ourselves with him tonight Geta, I want you inside of me one last time before I have to pretend we’ve never lied together.” 

Your legs open for him, the heat from your core beckoning him as slick wets your lips. His eyes darken, “my favorite game, acting as if I hate you all day only to fuck you until you’re weeping into my sheets at night.”

He dives into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin biting harder when you moan. 

“You’re the worst, my love,” you say breathless as he reaches between your bodies and nudges the head of his cock between your folds, a small moan on your lips as you circle your hips needing him deeper, “absolutely the worst.” 

Geta leans up, grabbing you harshly by the bend in your knee, a wicked grin on his lips as he thrusts his cock into your wet welcoming heat, “that’s right, and don’t you ever forget it.” 

—

A servant’s day in the palace was bleak at best. Following Caracalla around as he fussed over his appearance, and shouted at staff for the way the grapes tasted, it was all monotonous. Everyone gathered for the mid day feast, a summer celebration where servants and the royalty eat in the same hall. 

You hid your smile when Geta approached behind his mother. The dried blood on your lip from last night a steady reminder of why you ached between your thighs today. Heat flushed your skin when you imagined those great veiny hands scorching body as he came loud inside of you. 

What if he was right? What if you were with child? A small ripple of joy shot through you at the way Geta didn’t seem afraid of having a babe with you. You let your mind wander as you sit next to the other servants of the palace while they gossip, and you pick at the roasted pork before you. 

You imagine him being stern, those overgrown hands of his no doubt able to discipline unruly children bearing their father’s eyes and quick fired temperament. But that side of Geta that no one else in Rome knew about would also leak through his tough exterior. 

The piece of him that was sweet and caring, that part of himself that he bore to you over and over again because of the way you made him feel. He was sweet, kind, gentle when needed. 

A smile presses on your lips and you hum an audible sigh. Yes, Geta would be a good father— when that time came, if it ever did. Your heart flutters and your stomach lurches when you peek over your shoulder at him. 

His jaw was set tight at the head table as he listened to his generals whisper about the upcoming war. A flicker of those dark eyes catch yours and he balances a smirk on his lips for a second before shooting a wink and quickly 

turning away. 

Your small victory over the contest of staring is short lived before a loud whisper interrupts your daydream of that devious mouth on your skin. 

“Don’t lie Jessaphina,” Claudia hissed behind her hand, “you’ve never been to his chambers!” 

“I have so,” the blonde announced unabashedly, sipping loudly from her wine, “how else would I know that it’s high in a tower? Or that he prefers the shades to be drawn at all times… but the view from his balcony is breathtaking, I could really get used to it.” 

Claudia clicks her tongue, “you’re going to get yourself killed with such nonsense lies. No whore is allowed in the Emperor’s chambers.” 

“You are if you’re invited.” Jessaphina crooned, a smile on her lips, “my garments are on his floor as we speak.”

“Jessapahina!” Claudia hissed out every ‘s’, “it’s impossible is it not? You’re betrothed to one of the general's men, fifth in command.” 

“Fourth— Claudia, and not anymore…Geta has promised me the throne besi—”

Slamming down your plate you had heard enough. It took seconds for you to reach across the table, an even shorter amount of time to wrap your fingers in her braids and bring her face down hard into the oak table until the satisfying sound of her nose breaking had every pair of eyes on you. 

Your name was screeched from Claudia’s lips as she tried to pry your fingers from Jessaphina’s hair. Rage boiled within you and a sudden rush of ecstasy as Jessaphina’s screams became blubbery sobs. 

It was his voice that silenced the room, demanding all attention to him. Your eyes met Geta’s and it was then and only then that hot tears welled within your own. 

Without breaking his stare, you spat on Jessaphina, unfurled your fingers from her blonde locks and spun on your heel, storming out of the dining hall.

Betrayal. The one person you had put trust in, gave everything too and more— and it was gone. 

You didn’t make it very far before a fuming Geta met up with you, “what in gods name are you trying to do?” 

Spinning to face him, you slapped his face with tears rolling down your cheeks, “I should ask you the same question!”  

Geta’s face burned with crimson as he stared down at you, “watch your tongue—”

Your hand cracks his other cheek, “how could you?!” 

“Gnat,” he says through gritted teeth, “I have no idea what you are asking.” 

“Jessaphina! The blonde whore with the now broken nose! She claims she’s been to your chambers!” 

He laughs in annoyance, “what?” 

“She knows where it is what it looks like— she knows that your curtains are drawn in darkness!” 

Geta reaches for you but you swat his hand away, “of course she is lying, I’m sure she has heard that from the servants who come to clean.” 

“She said she was invited!” you spat back, at him, “that she was to be your equal on the throne, that her clothing was strewn about your chambers as if she belongs there.”  

His left eye twitches at the crease, “I have never seen that woman before in my life. You are it for me, mea amor—”

“Don’t!” You screech, shoving him away, “do not call me that when you’ve been fucking another!” 

“I know nothing of her!” Geta yells loudly, “not my eyes, nor my hands or lips have touched anyone but you.” 

You scoff then, “you never touched me either when we started out. Remember? It was only my mouth, and your cock.”

Geta sighs and hangs his head, those dark eyes pooling with tears, “my sweet girl, please.” 

“Is that all I am to you? A warm mouth… even now? We play in the shadows of secrecy…all those nights swearing how I am yours… were you ever once mine, Geta?” 

“Mea domina,” he whispers, pulling you to him as you cry into his chest. “I am yours and yours alone, what more proof can I offer you.” He pulls your chin up to him, wiping a line of tears from your eyes. “I swear on my crown, there hasn’t been another since you, and there won’t ever be.” 

He doesn’t owe you anything. He’s an emperor, and you are nothing but a wet fuck when no one is around. After all these months you’re still his secret. 

You jerk your chin away from him, your hands falling to their sides, “I’m such a fool aren’t I? For ever believing a word that comes from your mouth.” 

Geta pleads your name as you pull away, leaving his heart shattering to pieces as he stands alone. In the same corridor that this all had started— it would also end.

—

Geta was a miserable man without you, he felt hollow— exactly as he did before your pretty and defiant smile came here.The daylight was easier on him, but when night fell he felt as if he was being suffocated, as if every breath was expunged from his lungs in one tight grip on his throat. 

Were you hurting? Were you as bad off as he was? Geta was many things but he wasn’t a liar, he truly had never seen that woman until that very day when you smashed her face to bits into that table. 

Days passed without him even catching a glimpse of you, but the night was filled with ghostly pearl whispers of your voice in his ear, invading his dreams and keeping him awake. 

He assembled soldiers into the foothills to train for the impending war. Cracking a whip over their heads as they fought to the bloody death to prove themselves to him. 

Every ounce of pain he felt since you left was pushed into those men, he was ruthlessly deranged and couldn’t be stopped, the spitfire temper he was known for was back with a vengeance, led by a weeping soul. 

Around the fire one evening as Geta polished his sword while the few surviving men slept, the ground crunched beneath Acacius’s feet. 

“Your excellency,” he greeted with a bow of his head, “I have my best guards watching Emperor Caracalla in my absence.” 

“Very well,” Geta mumbled, his vacant eyes losing focus. 

Acacius fiddled with the leather on his wrist, “yes, and the—erm.. sir? Your lady…would you like me to watch for her as well?” His dark eyes looked pitifully at his broken hearted Emperor. 

Geta’s eyes met Acacius’ and the moon kissed the tear as it fell on his cheek, “please.” 

-

Caracalla was full of himself. You were certain of that, and because of that reason alone— he didn’t notice that your eyes had lost their sparkle, or the way the skin beneath them seemed to darken from lack of sleep. As long as you paid attention to him he could give a shit whether you looked off or not. 

You had heard from the others that Jessaphina would heal fine. And from Caracalla’s loud mouth he said that Geta had taken troops to prepare for the inevitable battle that loomed ahead. 

Hearing his name burned like fire in your stomach. It had only been three days without him but you felt as if it were a lifetime. The palace was lonely without his presence.  Most nights you found yourself wandering the halls like a spirit, sneaking into his study and curling up on the chaise. Replaying your nights together in your head until the sun shone through the curtains. 

You missed him, and you felt sick to your stomach thinking of the pain in his face when you wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t give him a chance to explain. But you were also hurt, deceived by the only man you’ve ever truly cared for. 

It was irrational the way you had reacted, you spent every night in Geta’s arms for months on end, how could he possibly be seeing anyone other than you? He couldn’t have. It was that simple and truly were a fool for doubting him. 

More days passed and every time you heard a galloping hoof on the rocks your heart burned with it being Geta returning to you, but every time it wasn’t him. 

It wasn’t until tending to Caracalla’s wardrobe one evening that a lower ranked general you’d never seen before approached you in a hushed whisper.

He was covered in sweat and smelled of the wind as if he had just rode back from far away. He bowed at the waist before grabbing your hand and thrusting a note into your palm before leaving immediately before being seen.

The parchment was covered with soil and splattered in blood, but nonetheless you knew who it had come from. 

—tonight, when the moon is highest, meet me, our spot—

The corridor was ominous and pitched into darkness as you looked past the pillars into the sky. You had never been more nervous than tonight. The moon was positioned correctly as it always was in the beginning when Geta had requested you to meet, but he had yet to appear. 

You remained near the opening, feeling the humid air warm your face as the cicadas sang their mating calls. The loose fabric of your stola flowed behind you in white lengths. Dutifully, patiently you waited for your Emperor’s return. 

Too long it had been since you’ve held his eyes in yours, since his smell invaded your nose and filled your lungs, you couldn’t wait to throw yourself into his arms, to tell him how ridiculous you had been. 

Footsteps had you turning the same time a familiar voice rang in your ears. 

“There you are.” 

—

“… we must move through the western front for the advantage.” 

“Neigh Titus, the southern region is less barren, easier to disguise amongst the trees.” 

Geta and the highest generals were sitting in the war camp pouring over maps and territories on where to strike first. A full week had passed since he’d been home, but the attention and focus he put into his men waa slowly mending himself to how he was before you. 

“Emperor!” Acacius roared, slapping open the tent opening out of breath, “a word, please.” 

Geta flicked his wrist to release his men. After filing out of his tent, Acacius interrupted before Geta could ask. 

“Word just came from the Hill that there’s been an ambush.”

Geta’s nostrils flared and he rose from where he was sitting, the psychotic twitch in his eye stung as his breath quickened.

“We’ve been prepared for retaliation for weeks, our walls will hold until we get back— tell the men to gather their weapons, we are leaving camp immediately.”

“This is not an enemy led attack— it’s from within our own walls!” 

“Wh— Acacius explain yourself!” 

Acacius yelled frantically, “Staff are dead, soldiers killed by their own bloodlines— and your lady… my excellency, she’s been taken.” 

🌿🌿 there will be another part bc i can’t help myselfffff i love the angst 😫

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[elixirina]

Can I request a Jason Todd X Wondergirl!Reader where shes Wonder woman's daughter and side kick?

They were super close and started dating b4 be died as Robin, and they reunite after his revival.

The JL and Young Justice shipped them like crazy, Bruce looked at her like a daughter, and she was also close with Dick and Tim.

Similar to how Dick had Donna, Tim has Cassie, Jason has Reader 💓

It can be smut, fluff, angst, or a combination, I really don't mind, I love all of your work it's addictive 💕💕💕

If you don't mind, you can ignore this aspect if you want, but could WonderGirl reader have long voluminous ginger curly hair? Similar to how Greek Girls in renaissance paintings have? Idk it's just super cute for me.

Anyways, take care and keep doing what your doing 🫶🫶🫶

hello my beautiful anon! i really loved this idea, i incorporated most of what you said, minus the ginger hair (mainly because i want the reader to remain ambiguous)! however, i hope you like it, as i liked it very very much!

# definition of love — jason todd

synopsis — jason is found dead shortly after you began dating. it hit you like a train, and after a few years, you figured you had moved on. guess you’re proven wrong when you spot a figure who looks just like your boy.

warnings — nothing much, a timeline of events kind of, reader is diana’s daughter and sidekick. angst with a happy ending, reader literally having a mental breakdown twice, typical gf losing bf situation maybe a bit worse, reader has some amazonian features, reader's wondergirl suit is like diana's only the colors are like swapped so the top half is blue instead of red and the skirt is red, but the gold remains the same, as does the headband. this was proofread, but i probably overlooked a spelling mistake like always. i don't think there’s anything else

please please please reblog and like 🤍

© elixirina — all rights reserved. my work is never to be reposted, translated, modified, etc, even if i am credited.

seredipity (n.) finding something good without looking for it.

being wondergirl was like a dream come true. you couldn't lie that there were times you wanted to bash your head into a rock because of how stressful it was, but it gave you an excuse to spend time with your mother 24/7.

you were only 13, but your mother had started training you young. she claimed it was for your own protection, but you weren't necessarily sure that was the reason. nevertheless, you obliged and to be honest, it was fun.

getting to spend time with your mother and fight crime? hell yeah! plus, that meant you got to meet the justice league. the idea of it had always flown over your head, but when your mother finally came to you with the idea, you beamed.

luckily for you, that day had arrived as quickly as you had hoped. you were nervous to the point where you were shaking. you had met the young justice before and they were the nicest people you'd ever interacted with, given how close they were to your age. yet, this, this was different.

it seemed way more professional than when you met the young justice.

you stood beside your mother, as she showed you around the justice league headquarters. natural light streamed in through large, arched skylights and tall windows. the sun blared in your face, and it made you feel warm.

could this go any faster?

jason walked in beside bruce in his robin suit. he figured he looked stupid, but he always did when he put on the suit. when bruce had brought up the idea of meeting the justice league, he expected a much cooler headquarters. the hall of justice looked so...bland.

the walls were shade of cream, and a massive, glowing emblem of a shield stood in the main hall. the pair walked on the white marble floor.

in jason's eyes, he looked like a big ball of color surrounded by white. the boy had completely zoned out as bruce walked him through the establishment, talking and talking away.

he had completely forgot where he was when he spotted your flowing hair. he watched as you methodically fiddled with your red skirt. the blue and white on your bodice matched the skirt of the woman next to you. a woman he'd only assumed to be wonder woman.

bruce, unbeknownst to jason's staring, had led the latter over you and your mother, with plans of introducing you and jason.

your mother took notice of bruce's presence quickly, stopping her conversation with you. you watched as the two adults greeted each other with a smile.

bruce averted his gaze to you, looking down at your figure. "you must be y/n. i'm bruce. diana speaks highly of you." his words made your cheeks go warm and you smiled sheepishly.

"i would hope so." you rubbed your bare bicep, your nervousness coming back to you.

the man let out a chuckle, before turning over to the boy next to him. the boy you hadn't even noticed until now. and the minute you did, you felt everything stop. it felt weird, this had never happened before. whenever you met new people your age, you smiled and said hi, but you couldn't bring yourself to do any of that.

his presence hit you like the first bloom of spring after a long, harsh winter.

"this is my son, jason." bruce simply said, and jason's eyes widened, mainly because bruce called him his son, but also because this meant he had to say hi to you and he didn't even know if he could still speak.

you shook off everything you felt and gave the boy in front of you a smile. the three primary colors on his suit and the contrast between his and bruce's almost made you giggle.

the air seemed charged with something electric; tangible yet invisible. you gave him a wave which he very quickly returned. he quickly looked down at the marble floor and you watched him.

you couldn't stop thinking about that the entire day. and to be honest, it made you less nervous about meeting the justice league members. they were incredibly nice, but you just couldn't keep your eye off of jason.

you sure hoped you'd see boy wonder again.

best friend (n.) someone who will stand up for you in the times you need it most. keep your secrets close, and someone you trust with your life.

you were now 14. maybe you had a little crush on jason, but nevertheless, he was your best friend, so that didn't matter to you. what mattered was that you were with him, and he was with you; you sure as hell did not want to lose him.

the two of you sat on a rooftop, your feet dangling in the air. your gold headband held your hair back to the best of its ability as the warm summer wind began to pick up. the sun had set, making the sky a beautiful dark blue and the clock was nearing twelve.

you and jason had always spent your time on this rooftop. it gave you a perfect view of gotham and it was a perfect place for the two of you to escape your parents.

you got lost in conversation on this day, like always. hearing his laugh sent a shiver down your spine like always. you could never get used to it; it was like music to your ears.

in all those moments you'd spent on that rooftop, time slowed, stretching into something so ethereal. it made it so memorable.

talking to him was just so easy, one of the reasons you became friends. he just understood and so did you. he was like a piece of your puzzle you didn't know you were missing. and you loved it. you loved-

"if stars could talk, what do you think they'd say about us?" jason broke the short silence between the two of you. the random question made you chuckle.

you turned your head to face him with a smile, "what?" you tilt your head and jason swears it might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen.

jason grins like a cheshire cat, "i mean like, do you think they laugh at our problems and shit?" he always loved conversations like this. he only ever said stupid stuff to see you smile. every time you smiled, it felt like his heart was blossoming flowers.

"language. and you are so weird." you laughed, your hands gripped the concrete edge of the roof top.

"i am not weird. i just have a big imagination." he quickly defended, throwing his right hand in the air. his left hand, which sat on the concrete edge was lingering closer to your hand; none of you noticed.

you let out a snicker before sitting in a comfortable silence, staring at the sky. only a few stars were visible in the sky, mainly due to the amount of light.

you looked down at your left wrist subtly, a gold watch around it. it was a watch your mother had given you for your 12th birthday. you couldn't recall why you rarely ever took it off, but you were grateful you had it at that moment.

you averted your gaze to the boy next to you who was looking down at his lap with a smile on his face.

"happy birthday, jace."

he looked over, the wind blowing a strand of hair in his face. his eyebrows furrowed for a second before he realized it must've been the next day.

you smiled at him, laying your head on his shoulder. he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, and most of all, he couldn't believe you remembered.

god, he loved this.

lover (n.) 1. a person who is in love with another. 2. a person who has a strong enjoyment or liking for something. 3. a person who loves, especially a person who has or shows a warm and general affectionate regard for others.

"ow. ow. ow." the word became a mantra, a rhythmic complaint that escaped your lips as you lay sprawled on jason’s bed in the manor. the sharp sting in your thigh was unrelenting, a painful reminder of your ill-fated encounter with a kitchen knife and a tray of horribly cut brownies.

the room smelled strongly of antiseptic from the first aid kit jason had torn into moments earlier, the tangy scent mingling with the woodsy warmth of his cologne. that was one smell you could never forget. a crimson gash marred your right thigh, the jagged line oozing blood in slow paths that tickled even as they burned.

jason sat beside you, his expression torn between concern and mild exasperation as he worked quickly to stop the bleeding. the soft rustle of gauze and the metallic clink of scissors filled the otherwise quiet room, broken only by your repeated "ow"s and his hushed apologies.

"sorry, sorry," jason muttered, his voice low and sincere, though his hands remained steady. his jaw clenched as he pressed a clean cloth against your skin, the pressure sharp enough to make you wince.

"remind me to never put you in a kitchen again," he quipped, glancing up briefly with the hint of a smirk.

you rolled your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the dull ache spreading through your leg. "it was an accident," you retorted, a touch defensive. "i am perfectly capable of knifework."

he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a laugh. "yeah, sure. because slicing your own leg is totally a pro move."

"very funny," you deadpanned, though your lips quirked in a reluctant smile. okay, maybe you weren’t the most graceful person when it came to handling sharp objects. blades weren’t exactly in your forte, and your mom was usually the one wielding kitchen utensils with precision.

jason snickered, the sound soft and melodic but undeniably amused, as he leaned closer to inspect the wound. his focus was intense, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his dark lashes framed his eyes or the small scar that laid on his jawline.

the bandaging took longer than it should have—partly because he was extremely meticulous, and partly because he kept stealing glances at you, his gaze lingering a second too long. his fingers brushed against your skin, the contact feather-light yet electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

he tied the bandage in place with a precise knot, tapping your thigh gently to signal he was done. the touch was brief but warm, leaving a faint heat in its wake.

"there," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "all better."

"thanks," you mumbled, sitting up fully and letting your weight settle into the mattress. your hand rested on top of your freshly bandaged thigh, as if testing the sturdiness of his work.

jason scooted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. his presence felt larger than life, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in, a quiet tension settling between you. you could feel the air shift—charged, unspoken—but neither of you moved to break it.

he tilted his head, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before snapping back to your face. "so… do i need to keep you on knife probation, or are you gonna behave?"

you rolled your eyes again, though your smile this time was genuine. "depends. are you volunteering to cook for me forever?"

his laugh was soft, a little breathless. "if it means you don’t bleed all over my bed again? sure."

despite jason’s earlier declaration, the two of you found yourselves in the manor’s sprawling kitchen. you’d insisted on redeeming yourself, though he stood watch like a hawk, his arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“alright prince,” he teased, leaning against the counter. “show me what you’ve got. just… keep the knives far, far away.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing a whisk with exaggerated confidence. “watch and learn, todd.”

the two of you fell into a rhythm, the kitchen filling with the comforting clatter of bowls and utensils. jason couldn’t resist stepping in every now and then, fixing your grip on a spatula or adding a pinch of seasoning to your mixture.

“bossy much?” you quipped as he reached around you to adjust the temperature on the oven

“Just trying to save b’s kitchen from a second massacre,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

at some point, the two of you devolved into playful chaos. A light dusting of flour ended up on jason’s shirt—your doing, of course. he retaliated with a swipe of chocolate from the batter bowl, smearing it on your cheek with a triumphant grin.

“truce!” you laughed, holding your hands up in surrender.

jason smirked, stepping closer. his eyes softened as he reached out with a damp cloth, gently wiping away the smear. “you’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

your breath caught as his hand lingered near your face. the playful energy between you shifted, the air thickening with something unspoken. his thumb brushed your cheek, the touch feather-light, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“jason,” you whispered, his name barely audible.

he hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, his forehead grazing yours as his eyes searched your face. “i’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath.

then, without another word, his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. but it didn’t take long for it to deepen, his hand cupping your jaw while the other found its place at your waist.

the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

when you finally pulled apart, his eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and mischief. “you know,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk, “you’re even worse at baking than I thought.”

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. “we just made out and the first thing you do afterwards is insult me?”

“i wouldn’t call it an insult, just a mere fact.” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face.

you shook your head, closing the distance between your lips once more.

grief (n.) deep sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.

jason was missing. at least, that’s what it seemed like. the last time you saw him was two days ago. to say you were worried would be an understatement.

you’d even gone to the manor, desperate to find him, but neither he nor bruce were there. alfred, usually a source of calm and clarity, had only said, “i’m afraid i can’t explain,” before retreating into the quiet dignity he always carried. those words lingered in your mind, growing heavier with each repetition.

now, two days had passed. two painfully slow, gut-wrenching days where time seemed to drag its feet. sleep had become an impossibility, your bed feeling cold and empty. food felt like an afterthought—how could you eat when every thought spiraled back to jason? was he hurt? was he in trouble? was he…?

you didn’t dare finish that thought.

sitting at the kitchen island, you tapped your fingers against the cool marble countertop in a restless rhythm. the sound filled the silence of the house, a constant reminder of your unease. diana stood across from you, pouring hot chocolate into two mugs, her presence steady yet unable to dispel the dark cloud hanging over you.

she glanced up, her eyes soft with understanding. “it’ll be okay,” she said, though her voice wavered ever so slightly.

you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the swirls of the marble as though the patterns might hold the answers you so desperately needed.

when diana moved to the refrigerator for the whipped cream, a soft knock echoed through the house. it was almost hesitant, as though the person on the other side knew the weight of what they carried.

your head snapped up, and diana caught your movement, raising a hand. “i’ll get it,” she said gently.

you watched as she walked to the entrance hall, her back straight but her steps slower than usual, as if she sensed what was coming. she opened the door, and the chill of the evening air rushed in, making the hairs on your arms rise.

there stood bruce, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, his presence commanding as always. but tonight, his usual stoicism was cracked, a melancholic look etched into his face.

diana froze, her hand still gripping the door. “bruce?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he didn’t answer right away. his jaw clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes avoiding hers. for a man who had faced countless battles and tragedies, this moment seemed to unravel him. his silence spoke volumes.

diana swallowed hard, her grip on the door tightening. she didn’t press him, though every second of quiet stretched unbearably. finally, bruce exhaled shakily, breaking the silence.

“jason is dead.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and final.

diana’s breath hitched audibly, and she let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. she reached out, pulling bruce into a hug. he stiffened at first, his shoulders rigid under the weight of his grief, but then he let himself lean into her, if only for a moment.

when she pulled back, her hands lingered on his arms. “what am i going to tell y/n?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

bruce didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the ground.

how does one tell their daughter her boyfriend is dead?

how does one tell their son's girlfriend he's dead?

your voice cut through the air, startling them both. you stood a few feet behind diana, your brow furrowed with confusion. the cold wind from the open door brushed past you, sending a shiver down your spine.

bruce turned to look at you, and for a moment, the man who was always so unshakable seemed small. his lips parted, but no sound came.

“bruce!” you said, your voice rising slightly as panic crept in. “is… is jason here?” you tilted your head, your fingers fidgeting against your palm.

the way his jaw tightened, the way diana avoided your gaze—it was enough to send your heart racing.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, forcing a shaky laugh. “why are you both looking at me like that?”

diana finally raised her head, tears brimming in her eyes. she stepped closer to you, her movements slow and deliberate.

“mom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

she reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. her touch was warm, grounding, but the look in her eyes made your stomach twist.

“he’s gone,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “jason’s dead.”

the world seemed to tilt, the weight of her words crashing into you like a tidal wave. for a moment, everything blurred—the sound of the wind, the warmth of her hand, even the beating of your own heart.

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “no, he’s not.”

"y/n.." diana began.

you backed away, letting her hand fall awkwardly. "no. no. you're lying," you looked over at bruce who was staring at the ground with such remorse. "you're lying, right?"

his silence was enough to make you sob.

after that day, nothing was the same. the world felt muted, like someone had dialed down the color and sound until everything was a dull, lifeless gray. days and nights blurred together, each one dragging on endlessly but offering no relief.

sleep was an elusive stranger. you spent most nights tossing and turning, tangling yourself in the sheets in a futile attempt to find a position where the ache in your chest didn’t feel so unbearable. when you did manage to drift off, it never lasted long.

the nightmares always came—flashes of his face, his laugh, his touch, and then, nothing. you’d wake up gasping, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you were fully conscious. the pillow beneath you was damp most mornings, a stark reminder of the storm you couldn’t escape.

the days weren’t any easier. you locked yourself in your room, the blinds drawn tight to keep the light out. sunlight felt wrong, almost offensive. how could the sun rise and set when your world had stopped?

your phone buzzed occasionally with concerned texts from dick and artemis, but the effort it took to type a single reply felt monumental. ‘okay.’ that was all you could manage, even though it was far from the truth.

your chest felt hollow, as though someone had reached inside and carved out every piece of you that mattered, leaving behind only a raw, jagged void. every breath was a battle—a sharp, painful reminder that you were still here, and he wasn’t.

the leather jacket he left at your house hung in your closet, untouched except for that one night when the grief was too heavy to bear. you’d pulled it down, burying your face in the worn material, desperately searching for the scent of him, the smallest piece of him that you could still hold onto.

at first, the faint smell of his cologne brought a flicker of comfort, but it was fleeting. the memories came rushing in, one after another, relentless and unforgiving. you crumpled to the floor, clutching the jacket to your chest as sobs wracked your body.

even now, the jacket remained where you’d left it—folded on the floor, too painful to look at yet impossible to put away. It was a symbol of him, of everything you’d lost, and it seemed to radiate its own grief, mirroring yours.

the hours crept by, each one heavier than the last. you existed in a haze of sorrow, your body moving through the motions of life while your mind remained stuck in the past, replaying moments with him like a scratched record. every laugh, every glance, every touch—they were all there, vivid and cruel reminders of what you’d never have again.

a year went by. then two. hen three. the grief hadn’t left, not really—it had just learned to settle in the cracks of your soul. you’d found ways to cope, ways to live. for the most part, anyway. the ache was still there, but it no longer kept you locked inside your house, staring at the ceiling, waiting for answers that would never come.

you started spending a lot of more time with dick. he had been a quiet but steady presence in the aftermath, his support unspoken yet deeply felt. he never pushed you to talk, but he always seemed to know when you needed someone to sit with you in the silence. with him, the weight felt a little lighter, the memories a little less suffocating.

about a year after jason's death, you’d met tim. the new robin. It had been a shock at first—seeing someone else in that uniform, someone who wasn’t him. but tim was different. he wasn’t trying to fill jason’s shoes; he was carving his own path, and over time, you grew close to him. he became another thread in the fragile net that kept you grounded, kept you moving forward.

life continued, in its strange, fractured way. then, one afternoon, everything shifted.

you had decided to take a walk downtown—a simple attempt to clear your head. the streets were bustling, the noise of cars and chatter filling the air. you ducked into a quiet bookstore for a while, thumbing through a few titles before stepping back out onto the pavement. you hadn't been in this particular bookstore in years. the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city.

and that’s when you saw him.

at first, it was just a figure in the crowd. but something about the way he moved caught your eye. the familiar stride. the way his head turned slightly as though he’d caught someone’s attention. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

it couldn’t be. it couldn’t be.

but it looked so much like him. too much like him.

you froze on the spot, your body rooted to the ground as the figure walked away, blending into the crowd. you wanted to move, to call out, but your legs wouldn’t listen. your hands trembled as they clutched your bag, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.

you stumbled back into the nearest alley, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. leaning against the cold brick wall, you tried to steady yourself, but the world was spinning. you clenched your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them as though you could will the image away.

it wasn’t him. it could not be him.

but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing, fast and wild, threatening to overtake your rationality.

by the time you made it home, you were shaking. the moment the door closed behind you; the dam broke. you collapsed onto the floor, the sobs tearing through you with a force that felt almost violent.

“jason,” you whispered, his name a prayer and a curse all at once.

the pain you’d worked so hard to manage came crashing back, sharper than ever. you cried until your throat was raw, until your body ached from the force of it. the walls of your apartment seemed to close in on you, suffocating and unforgiving. you didn’t care.

the image of the figure haunted you, replaying in your mind over and over. you wanted to believe it was him. you wanted to believe that somehow, against all odds, he was alive. but you couldn’t let yourself hope. hope was dangerous.

two days passed before you felt steady enough to leave the house. dick had invited you to the manor for dinner, saying bruce wanted to discuss something. you agreed reluctantly, still shaken from what you’d seen, but knowing you couldn’t keep isolating yourself.

seated in the dining room, you looked between bruce and dick, their expressions unusually grim.

“why do I feel like this isn’t just dinner?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

bruce sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “we’ve been tracking a new vigilante in gotham,” he said finally. “calls himself the red hood.”

the name sent a chill down your spine, but you kept your expression neutral. “and?”

dick hesitated, glancing at bruce before speaking. “he’s... unconventional. brutal. we’ve crossed paths with him a few times now, and his methods are extreme.”

“extreme how?” you pressed, your stomach knotting with unease.

“he’s not afraid to kill,” bruce said flatly. “he goes after criminals with precision and rage. he knows things about us, about gotham, that no one outside the family should know.”

the knot in your stomach tightened. “what are you trying to say?”

dick leaned forward, his voice softer now. “we think he might have a connection to jason.”

your breath hitched, and you gripped the armrest of the chair. “what kind of connection?”

bruce’s jaw tightened. “we don’t know yet. but his tactics, his targets... there are too many similarities to ignore.”

the room fell silent as you processed their words. the figure in the crowd flashed in your mind again. could it really be him?

but no, it couldn’t. jason was gone.

and yet, for the first time in three years, the possibility lingered.

love (n.) an intense emotion of affection, warmth, fondness, and regard towards a person or thing.

you couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about that day in the bookstore and the dinner at the manor. it hit you like a train. you had truly thought you were over it.

you believed that no reminder of him was going to make you break down ever again. that melancholy and remorse? you thought it was gone. why did it have to be back?

why couldn't you be normal about it? what made this so damn difficult?

of course, you still loved him. you would never stop. you knew that for a fact. but no one told you that grief was so hard.

it felt suffocating. the weight on your shoulders came back and suddenly, you weren't so grounded anymore. god, you wanted to believe he was alive. just to make everything easier. you just wanted the cure to all of this.

your mother noticed something was off when she came to visit you, but you immediately turned her comfort down, saying it was just stress.

she knew that wasn't the case.

nevertheless, she left you alone and later that night, you found yourself in your suit on that very rooftop you and jason loved so much.

your feet dangled off of the concrete edge, staring into the night sky. the sky above was an inky black, its darkness punctuated by a few stubborn stars that managed to shine through the haze of city lights. the hum of the city rose faintly from below, but up here, it felt like the world had paused, leaving only you and the endless night.

from the rooftop, the city stretched out in every direction, its neon signs and glowing windows casting a faint orange haze over the horizon. above it all, the moon hung pale and solitary, its light soft and distant, as though reluctant to reach the ground.

it reminded you so much of him. the ability to talk to him and never know when to stop. he never failed to make you smile or laugh. god, you missed his laugh. you missed his smile and you longed for his smell.

you closed your eyes, and his face came to you, unbidden. his crooked smile, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. the way he used to look at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. god, you missed him. you missed everything about him.

he was so good to you, and he was gone.

your chest tightened, the hollow ache inside you growing unbearable. you leaned forward slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though you could hold yourself together. the rooftop had always been your sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a prison.

you leaned back just in time to hear a rather modulated voice come from behind you.

"i thought you would've stopped coming here."

you jumped at the voice, immediately standing up. you gripped onto your lasso which laid attached to your red skirt. the rooftop was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights below. shadows stretched across the concrete, and the figure in front of you emerged from one of them like something out of a nightmare.

fortunately, the red helmet that covered his head gave it away and ultimately, you knew who you were facing. red hood.

"what do you want?" you simply questioned, straightening your back.

he made an effort to step towards you but stopped when you put your hand up as a way to stop him. he sighed, though it was barely audible. "i'm not gonna hurt you. i would ne-" he cut himself off, looking down at the ground.

you raised your eyebrows, letting your hand make its way back to your side. your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as your eyes locked onto the tall figure before you. you eyed him up and down.

he left no room for questioning when you heard a clank. you looked down at the ground and say that same red helmet that was just on his head, lying on the ground.

you looked up at him and your shoulders slumped. the grip on your lasso loosened and your breath hitched.

oh god, were you dreaming? surely, this couldn't be real.

standing before you was jason todd. your jason. your boy. he had certainly grown, standing at a little over 6'0, 6'1? you could see how toned he was through his suit. his hair was longer than before, and there were faint scars on his still beautiful face.

"baby..." he uttered out, biting the inside of his cheek.

how does one tell their girlfriend that they came back from the dead?

you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him. you needed to touch him, to feel him. this was your chance. this was the cure. you felt him stiffen a bit under you before completely melting into your touch, wrapping his arms around you securely. it almost felt like he was scared to let you.

"i thought i-" your voice broke as you pulled your head back a bit to look at him. "i missed you, jace." the way his name rolled off your tongue so easily sent a chill down his spine. he missed this. he missed you.

his throat tightened as he looked down at you, guilt and regret written across his face. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it filled your ears like a soft melody. you had missed hearing it—hearing him. just hearing him speak to you like this, like he still cared, made everything else feel less heavy.

you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. god, he missed that. "why?"

he swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving your face. “i didn’t look for you first. i should’ve. and then… i did things. horrible things. i mean, i killed people, y/n. so many people. and i—i don’t expect you to forgive me. i don’t even know if you can.” he paused, running a shaky hand through his hair. “but, but i can change. for you, i can. i just wanted you to know that. i… i just wanted to tell you that i’m still me. i’m still your jason.”

"then, that's all that matters." you stated, placing a hand on his cheek. it felt so much better to touch him. "i can't leave you. not when i just got you back." you sniffled.

you smiled for the first time, and he felt himself turn into jelly. he missed you and he missed that damn smile.

a shaky breath escaped him as his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek softly. “fuck, i don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.

you shook your head, smiling through the tears that were now falling freely down your face. “you don’t have to deserve me, jason,” you whispered. “you already have me. also, language.”

he shook his head as he pulled you in close, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss, as though afraid to push too far. but you kissed him back with all the love and longing you had kept hidden for so long. when you pulled away, both of you breathless, jason rested his forehead against yours.

“i always thought you looked good in red. i could get used to this.” you remarked, referring to the red helmet that was still laying on the red.

he smiled softly, placing a hand on the fabric of your crimson skirt. “got it from you.”

god, you loved this man.

[plaguedocboi]

Bottomless Pits

We post holes here, sir.

Sinkholes, pit caves, wells and cenotes all have one thing in common; sometimes they’re bottomless. Not truly “bottomless”, of course, but in appearance, reputation, or of incredible depth. We’ve seen a few of these “bottomless pits” in prior lists such as the Lost Sea in Tennessee or the Devil’s Hole in Nevada, but today we will focus on those strange places in the earth that seem to be endless.

1. Laguna Kaan Luum, Mexico

This one threw me for a loop because I was originally only seeing pictures like the one above, so I was like ‘oh, that’s cool, so it’s kinda like Dean’s Blue Hole, where it’s an ocean sinkhole right off the shore…’

No. It’s not that. Let’s zoom out a bit.

Yeah. This is a lake with one giant sinkhole in the middle! It’s about 2,000 feet across and reaches depths of 278 feet, with the surrounding shallows a very pleasant 4 feet deep! I’m mostly including it on the list because the full image hit me like a bus.

2. Sima Humboldt, Venezuela

Tepuis are large plateau mountains found across Venezuela, often with sheer sides and inaccessible tops that inspired explorers to imagine dinosaurs still surviving on these isolated mesas. Even on their own, tepuis are incredible, beautiful and mysterious. Add a sinkhole with an even more isolated forest at the bottom, and you have all the ingredients for some crazy shit to happen. Sima Humboldt and Sima Martel are two enormous sinkholes at the top of Cerro Sarisariñama. Humboldt is the largest at over a thousand feet across and nearly the same in depth, with a jungle flourishing at the bottom. The sinkhole forests are home to many endemic species of both plant and animals, but so far, no prehistoric monsters have been found in any of them.

3. Well of Barhout, Yemen

The “well of hell” is a massive sinkhole in the desert, measuring about 100 feet in diameter and plunging down over 300 feet. Understandably, there are many myths and legends about this place, including a story about an evil djinn which lives at the bottom and takes the head of anyone foolish enough to climb in. In fact, so pervasive are these legends that the sinkhole was only formally explored in 2021! Luckily they did not find any evil spirits, but they did find stalagmites which reached 30 feet tall, cave pearls, and waterfalls which provided refuge for frogs and snakes.

4. Myakka sinkhole, Florida

This murky abyss is filled with more than just water, it is also home to over a hundred alligators. Due to the poor visibility and very high concentration of large carnivores, it is very difficult to study this pit. Only a few people have ever glimpsed the bottom of this 134-foot deep sinkhole, but apparently we aren’t missing much because the water down there is stagnant and inhospitable to most life. Exactly why this area is so popular among alligators is still unknown, but it’s likely due to a combination of food availability and ideal temperatures.

5. The Pit cenote, Mexico

Like Cenote Angelita, The Pit is a layered cenote. The first 88 feet is freshwater, then there is a “fog” of hydrogen sulfide, below which lies over 300 feet of brackish water. The Pit is a spectacular-looking cenote, with an almost otherworldly quality, which makes it very popular among divers. So far, this pit has been explored to a depth of 390 feet, but unexplored passages extend further.

6. Thor’s well, Oregon

Like a drainpipe continuously swallowing an unbroken stream of ocean water, Thor’s well is often likened to a bottomless pit. However, it is actually only about 20 feet deep, and the drain effect is due to the fact that it connects back to the ocean, not swallowing the water but simply rerouting it. This does not mean that there is no danger, though. The rocks are slippery and sharp, and this area sees a higher than average number of ‘sneaker waves’; waves that look normal as they roll in but are actually much larger than they appear, potentially sweeping people out to sea as they retreat. The true danger here is the ocean, not the well.

7. Vouliagmeni Lake, Greece

This incredibly beautiful saltwater lake has been rumored to have healing properties for thousands of years, and today continues to draw in visitors for its medicinal minerals and “doctor fish”. But this famous lake hides a secret; a labyrinth of caves whose depths have never been fully explored, and whose connection to the ocean remains undiscovered. Passages stretch over a mile into the mountains, with an average depth of 260 feet. The largest of these caverns is nearly 500 feet wide and full of warm sea water. Although a spectacular diving spot, these unknown caverns are best not underestimated.

8. Santa Rosa blue hole, New Mexico

A gorgeous natural swimming hole, this cenote is roughly 80 feet wide and 80 feet deep (in most places) and is a popular destination for tourists. It was also used for diving certification tests, until an incident in 1976. There is one spot in this picturesque cenote that goes down much further than 80 feet; the entrance to a cave. In the dark, twisting passages, two young divers got lost and died, and the cave was later sealed with a metal grate to prevent other divers from attempting to enter. The cave was mostly forgotten about until 2013, when cave divers were given permission to attempt to map the area. The blue hole is at least 200 feet deep, but the bottom of the cave still has not been found.

9. Roaring River Spring, Missouri

This turquoise river bubbles up from a ten-foot wide pool of deep water hidden within a sheer-sided canyon. But despite its peaceful appearance, this spring discharges 20 million gallons of water a day, and the exact source is still unknown. In 1979, divers attempted to map the cave, but reached a point 225 feet down where the passage constricted and had a water flow like “the force of an open fire hydrant”, preventing them from going any further. In 2020, divers waited until the water flow was lowest in the summer and descended to a depth of 472 feet with no bottom in sight, making this the deepest spring in the US!

10. Your Mom.

I jest, of course. Here’s the real one:

Hranice Abyss, Czech Republic

A tiny greenish lake in the forest is the opening to the deepest freshwater cave in the world, deeper than the Empire State Building is high and still seemingly bottomless. It is so deep that scientists think it may have been formed by a totally different process than most freshwater caves; instead of water eroding away the ground from above, it may have been created by acidic groundwater coming up from below. And this water is extremely acidic, able to burn a diver’s skin if not covered properly. This, combined with fallen trees and other debris, poor visibility, and the sheer vertical drop of the cave, creates incredibly dangerous conditions for diving. Because of this, no diver or ROV has reached the bottom yet. But with a recent study using seismic sensors, scientists have estimated that the abyss may be over a kilometer deep, twice what was previously thought.

[killuintense]

olá!, gostaria de fazer um pedido, onde leon e o leitor estão em um momento íntimo +18 e o leitor acaba esguichando nele 👉👈(se puder, pois o leitor é mais novo que o leon) ♡🧸

❝ delicious ❞

leon kennedy x fem!reader.

summary: Leon didn't let you forget how skilled he was with his fingers.

content: 1.4k words smut, p in v, unprotected sex, age gap, fem squirt, degradation kink, worship, also sweet Leon, little fluff, needy dom Leon.

note: it is the first time that i write about squirts and i found it very fun and interesting to do it! i hope i have described it as accurately as possible, it really is a difficult feeling to explain, haha. anyway, i hope you liked it, sweetheart, thanks for trusting me ♡

It was supposed to be a quiet and cozy evening, you spoiling Leon and relaxing with him in bed while you watched movies and pampered each other. That's what you thought it would be but now you were writhing on the bed with tears in your eyes threatening to come out as Leon rubbed your swollen clit over and over again with his fingers wet with your fluids, while his cock moved lazily inside you, as if he wanted to stimulate you little by little but with the struggle of not wanting to come inside you. He had cum in you seconds before and you joined him, leaving his back completely red from the scratches. And you didn't know if it was because of the distance that had passed during those weeks where he had had to attend to work matters, but he refused to come out of you claiming that he needed to feel you until he got tired.

And he was getting what he wanted, getting rock hard inside you again as the seconds ticked by. Wasn't he content to give you an orgasm so strong it left you in a feverish state, almost fainting? Apparently not, and now the wet sounds were a little more intense, needing to move a little deeper but not ramming you with the force of a few minutes before. "Leon, f-for God's sake stop" your voice sounded broken and shaky, and your eyes were wet and watery, whimpering as best you could when he brought one of his large hands to your sensitive neck, squeezing firmly but not quite suffocating you.

"Sh..." he hissed, licking his lips as his fingers made increasingly frantic movements on your swollen core. He was too self-absorbed watching you squirm and squeezing it so hard that he felt privileged to have your walls smothering his cock with such vigor. He loved how, in desperation of not knowing what to do with so much pleasure, you brought your hands to your tits and squeezed them, mistreating your hard, red nipples from so much groping. "Why are you asking me to stop, fuck" he gave a loud lunge, almost growling, opening you wider "You're moaning like a fucking bitch in heat and you want me to stop, damn it, you punish me" the growl turned to a laugh when he felt you shaking harder than usual.

And is that... you could feel the tip of his cock hit you in that very specific spot with such precision, feeling your juices mixing with his cum still inside you. Fuck, you felt it still hot, dripping and leaking out of you every time he gently pulled out and pushed back in. Leon took his hand off your neck to grab one of your thighs and place it on his shoulder, pulling out completely and back in again; almost feeling addicted to watching his cum dripping out of your pussy and helping the thick sound become more constant.

"Leon!" you sobbed, begging him for mercy "Fuck, stop!" you curved your back throwing your head back, soon you felt your gaze cloud over. It was... different. Different in so many ways that you were scared, almost as if you wanted to stop everything and go to the bathroom to see what the fuck was going on, because that wasn't an orgasm like any other. And, while Leon had made you cum in so many ways you lost count, the tingling sensation and total tightness in your belly was different, as if something more was coming out than just that clear liquid you denoted every time you cum around Leon. Each time Leon came and came harder and harder, more liquid came out of you. "Love, this is different..." your cheeks were hot like never before and totally stained by your tears "It feels weird, please..." your dry mouth and chest rising and falling from your irregular breathing.

"Let it go, princess" he kissed your thigh, biting it gently and sucking without any kindness "Trust me, it will feel good..." he gasped, his pelvis moving harder, moving out and in, his fingers now defiling not only your clitoris but your pussy completely, running his fingers along your lower lips, going up and down. However, that last movement spelled your doom, as he pulled out of you and without much effort, slipped back in, causing a weeping, dripping head to impact your sweet spot.

Your legs trembled, your voice went away for a few seconds and you let yourself go without thinking that you would completely wet the sheets with that deep orgasm that felt like a beating in your whole organism. Everything was spinning around you, making it hard for you to regain consciousness and yet, despite everything, you did not stop feeling that sensation of fullness that having Leon inside you gave you... you'd be lying if you said you hadn't fantasized about having him inside you forever, and at times like that you could almost be sure you recognized every protruding vein on his fucking cock.

It took you a few minutes to come back to yourself, and when you did you lifted your body, propping yourself up as best you could on your elbows, seeing the large wet spot on the sheets. Leon's thighs were wet and so were yours. What the fuck had happened and how did you manage to come so far with your orgasm...?

"Feeling better?" the sweet voice of Leon woke you from your little dream, making you look at him pitifully, stammering apologies not knowing what else to say. You had soaked him completely "I had to stop because I was going to cum so much that it was going to be twice as hard for you to clean yourself afterwards" he confessed, kissing your thigh still on his shoulder as he caressed it. You hadn't realized how scarred he had left it with his wet bites and hickeys, you couldn't even feel your legs in fact. "Don't apologize, love. I'm flattered to have provoked your first squirt in fact" he mentioned with that arrogant but deep tone, typical of him. You hadn't even understood what he meant, because your head was still spinning. You almost felt sorry when it came out, still hard as if all that hadn't been enough. You thought the weirdness of the situation would make the excitement disappear from his body immediately, but he seemed just as hard as before, if not harder.

"Damn..." you threw yourself back on the bed, closing your eyes "I'm all yours, Leon, please do whatever you want. You deserve it" you laughed, still feeling your mouth dry and your cheeks dripping. He seemed to laugh, almost like an excited child about to use his favorite toy.

"You have no idea how hot your pussy makes me, you are delicious. If I wasn't so tired I swear I'd eat you out" a mischievous chuckle broke out, and you chuckled to yourself. You would never have thought that this man ten years older than you would have so much energy in bed, much more than you -just entering the young-adult world- would have. But when it came to your body he seemed to go completely out of control, almost animalistic.

Soon he gathered your wet thighs together and wedged his member between them, beginning to masturbate between them, smothering his red, weeping cock with precum as the wetness of your cum helped him slide better between them "Fuck, fuck, fuck" he moaned, and the thought of him getting so aroused using you as his plaything, you totally pounded by the orgasm, produced your body to heat up again. You had no rest "Always wanting me to use you, to fuck you so hard, don't you?" he gave two more thrusts and strips and strips of dripping, hot cum trickled down to your belly and, most of all, completely stained your thighs. Leon melted into his orgasm and allowed himself to fall on top of you, blessing you with his 70 pounds of muscle and heat crushing you sweetly.

"I'm all dirty and yet you want to kiss me" he laughed along with you when he heard that, kissing your neck as soon as he could and moving with soft caresses from his mouth to your lips, sucking them with devotion.

"This is the part I like the most" he declared, watching you raise an eyebrow; he had literally ground you up and fucked the shit out of you with the previous fuck like an animal and that was his favorite moment. Crazy fucker. But... that was what you liked most about him, after all "Let me know when you're better, love, and I'll run you a warm bath" he left a soft kiss on your cheek and sunk his face into the beginning of your breasts, making you laugh.

Truly Leon Kennedy was a basket case when it came to having you all to himself.

[dollfacedsl1ut]

Crystal Moon

dynamic: g!p ning x siren!fem reader

synonsis: ningning went to a nearby beach to clear her mind but there’s a unexpected visitor who she meets along the way

warnings: dubcon, manipulation, exhibition, seduction, dacryphilia (crying), begging, overstimulation, both are dominate at one point, Ning is a little depressed lmk if I’m missing smth !!!!

wc: 1,329 or 1.3k

A/N: in honor of my LONNGGGGG awaited return I’ve made something new plus I’m accepting bg requests!!

The old sand molted the shape of ningning feet as she walked along the beachside, this was the only way she would be able to think, everything was just so clouded in her mind and she needed to catch a break, whether it was paparazzi or stalkers following her it was all too much, this beach reminded her of the good times she had as a kid although it looked different….. it was windier and cloudy all the time not a lick off sun in sight..

Ning rested against a large rock near the ocean the tidal waves marking their path in the brown sand, her eyes felted heavy as she glanced at the empty vodka bottle she had tucked away in her jacket, she knew she’d have to go back and face reality eventually but a little break wouldn’t hurt anyone

She let her eyes close for a brief second before a a sweet yet seductive tune played in her head, maybe it was the alcohol she thought over and over until the rhythm changed…”Yeah theres no way I’m dreaming” she thought as her legs dangled from the large rock, the tune got louder and more intense but the voice of whatever it was made her head foggy, foggier than it was before it was mind controlling in a way, she counted complain it was such as beautiful thing to hear but she felt like it was the only thing she heard the sound of the ocean water hitting the rocks gone, the sound of the birds chirping and flapping their wings erased, just the tune was heard, yeah she was in denial until a dark figure was seen moving from under the wooden brown bridge in front of her.

Maybe her suspicions were true she’s not dreaming…but in fact hallucinating Ning groaned as she lifted her body off the rock before plopping down on the sand, she could’ve swore she stepped on a seashell or a hermit crab? But nonetheless her foot was on a sharp object, she didn’t know if she wanted to check on her foot or follow the figure who released the tune..

She just couldn’t think straight so ignoring her very aching foot she went after it but the song got louder and more hypnotizing and intoxicating it felt like drinking the most throat burning alcohol in the world, right when it felt like she was gonna faint she spotted a dark purple tail she reached out to try and grab it but it moved upwards like it was begging Ning to touch it, but that’s when the song stopped as the tail turned into a pair of long soft legs

“H-hello” Ning said with a shaky voice unaware of the creature that was before her eyes, the now human walked in front of ning as she gawked, your skin was glistening as her eyes trailed from your body to your chest then your dark eyes, they looked lifeless to Ning but she didn’t move..she couldn’t move..it was like someone was holding her in place.. you were holding her place the song she heard wasn’t a dream or a hallucination it was you..you lead her here to do what exactly??

Your dark eyes pierced her skin, it made her feel invisible but when your hand touched and grasped her shoulder she knew you were real “w-who are you” she whispered “if I told you who I was I’d be banished so let’s just call me siren” her voice gave her chills as she nodded your presence drove her crazy but your body was hypnotic, needless to say there was a visble tent in her pants as she looked at you trembling “I must say I never seen another human on this beach in months” Ning almost came right there when you kept speaking to her, she didn’t know you could sense her arousal, your arms brung Ning in for a bare hug before dragging her under the wooden brown bridge, she wanted to scream and fight, she didn’t want to go with you, she didn’t know if you wanted to kill her or even take her away she was defenseless because she just had to come to you, she just had to be attracted to your song and follow you…

You reached the bridge as you placed her down on the sand this part was much darker and colder it made her nipples perk up under her gray hoodie, Ning was afraid but aroused, you straddles her hips as your hands rested on her shoulders “you know what I’m gonna do to you is your own fault right…..you purposely followed me for you’re own reasoning” she wanted to believe it wasn’t but your words persuaded her, a smile formed on your lips as you unzipped her hoodie, her skin was so and delicate, it was life one slice with your claws and her skin would be tainted

Your hands trailed to her pants as her tent was visible you smiles softly before pulling them down but leaving them on her thighs although you were gonna take advantage of her you didn’t want her to get horrifyingly sick, there was a sight of precum left in her boxers as you pulled them down revealing her cock, it stood upright as it smacked against her soft belly it was so thick and long, this was visibly the biggest you’ve ever seen even male sirens didn’t have this much girth you thought as you slide down your panties, there was a hint of worry on nings face as you lifted yourself up then guided down on her cock, the stretch was painful but bearable, you sank down until your clit reached her pelvis, Ning gasped and whimpered under you as her hands immediately went to your hips kneading the soft flesh, you tried your best to stay silent but it just felt too good your body weakened as you moved your hips against hers her cock felt good in your tummy, her tips was pushing and hitting your cervix as you got leverage and started to lift your hips and bounce on your cock, your whimpers didn’t go unproved by Ning as she kept kneading your hips while letting out whimpers or curses every other second, your cunt squeezed her cunt deliciously as your hips moved restlessly it was so magical and synchronized, her flesh slapped against yours as liquid ran down your legs she didn’t know you came yet until the white ring formed around her cock, she felt her high coming as you clamped around her, she didn’t know you could get this tight it was unbearable as tears rolled down her cheeks, she came inside your cunt with a loud cry as her hands squeezed you tight, but you didn’t stop you wanted to be full you haven’t felt like that in a while and she was your only option, her cock veins bulged and dragged against her spongy walls as you came again, your cum was beginning to soaked her joggers, Ning hiccuped as she pleaded and begged you to go faster, her feeble voice was such a turn on it made your cunt quiver around her, you felt her hands snake up your body and grasp your chest fondling with your nipples, you moaned at the sensation, as your hips stuttered.. you were close again but so was Ning her cock throbbed inside of your cunt as she squeezed and pinched your nipples your bottom lip tucked under your teeth as you came around her for the last time, Ning followed as her warm cum coated your walls.

Nings eyes closed as you lifted yourself off her, you cleaned her up but left her on the sand unconscious or conscious you’ll never know, but you did know she’d be back to look for you and always you’d be singing your tune wishing she would be the one to come find you….

[mbsneur]

Casual Sex

Misa Rodriguez x Reader

Summary: You met Misa because of Jenni. You have casual sex very often but you don't feel good anymore?

Warnings: Smut,Sub!reader,oral,fingering, names like „Amore“ and „good girl“

WC: 1304

please read this text before going to the story please don't be so strict with me but rather write to me what I can do better or what you wished were different. also tell me if you find the story too long or too short.. Also write to me if you liked it. My requests are always open (and English is not my first language so don't be mad at me) and if you have any ideas for the future about who I should write please tell me… the topics I will choose by myself unless you have a request for one or two people I will Read everything.. in the next survey I will take a few ideas from the old survey and new ones…. now read and I hope you like it <33

Real Madrid lost the El Clásico against rivals Barça as so often again Misa stood in front of your door frustrated and angry and fucked you in every direction

You have been friends with Jenni since childhood and last month she took you to a party where there were several Spanish people and where you also met Misa

even after 6 orgasms she was still lying between your legs your whole body was weak and shaking you saw Misas Strong arms around your thighs to keep them apart. She kissed the inside of your thighs and you saw her sweaty hair sticking to her forehead. With every kiss, your legs twitched and Misa had a smug smile in return

you are still dripping from your previous orgasm misa gets higher and higher with her mouth and licks a large stripe from your hole to your clit your legs close and you twitch you try to push misa away but she squeezes tightly around your thighs holding you in place "Misa I can't take another one, I can't feel my legs anymore"

"psht amore you can, I know you can, don't you want to be my good girl?"

„yeah mi-„

"So you see, you're going to take what I give you mh"

misa's head returns to your core she places soft kisses on your clit making you cry out misa starts sucking and brings one of her fingers to your hole and circles it gently your hips rock into her mouth and you whimper "baby please don't tease" Misa smiles and inserts a finger inside you. You start to get louder and louder and Misa hits all the right spots inside you. She curls her fingers and sucks on your clit. You breathe quickly and your pelvis rises Misa squeezes your stomach with her other hand to keep you in place. You get louder "fuck misa right there" you moan and your eyes roll into your head sweat forms on your chest and you get closer to where misa wants you "Will you cum for me pretty girl?" She asks and now pumps two fingers into your dripping hole. You can hear how wet you are "baby you are going to make me cum I want to cum on your fingers like a good girl please misa" you literally screamed misa now started sucking your clit harder and your legs started shaking you scream and cum all over misa's face your Legs close around her head and she helps you through your orgasm. She only removes her fingers when she is sure you have survived it

Misa moves away from you and comes up to you. She gently kisses your shoulder and whispers in your ear "I knew you could, my good girl" then she gets up, takes her things and starts to get dressed. You don't feel good about the fact that Misa always just comes to you to fuck you and then leaves again as if nothing had ever happened. You felt like that like an object for her you watch her, with every step her stomach tenses she renews her bun and looks for her sports bra in the room "do you want to go already Misa?" you ask her, she has found her sports bra and while she is putting on her clothes she looks at you briefly. You are lying there with your head leaning on your arm, watching the sweaty Misa. "Yes, I'm going, I'm tired. I'll call you when I see you again or I need it or i just come here" she says without batting an eyelash and sternly as if she's paying you to sleep with her somehow it's not what you want from Misa "I thought we'd take a shower together or eat together, I can make you tapas You always like them so much when I make them," you say quietly and you're embarrassed to ask "I don't have time for that, no, I'll take a shower at home." She puts on her shoes and is kind of rushed. She takes the rest of her things with her With a "see you" she slams the door and leaves you naked and tired from sex

You pull yourself together and take a hot bath. You don't really know what to think about it or what you feel or whether you want to talk to Misa about it. You don't want it to be over either because Misa actually has so much love and care in her You have often noticed when you were sick and she came here and brought you things to help you get better or she invited you to her games or went to one with you. You never talked about love, it was always just friendship and sex. casual sex.

Misa has become different. She doesn't take you anywhere anymore or is caring towards you. She only comes here to have sex with you and then leaves again. u want to feel Misa differently. u want to feel her love?

The next day

You were at work like every day. Misa wrote to you early in the morning asking if she could come over later. She misses your taste, You knew she had training. You had ignored her message through the day to do your work. You arrived home around 4pm You bought groceries and were about to put them away. You took a quick shower and sat on the couch without saying a word to Misa or answering her all day. Around 10pm a loud knock on your door broke you out of your drowsy mood

You rub your eyes and actually wanted to ignore it until there was another knock, with a loud sigh You got up and ran to the door and opened it. Who else should be standing there but Misa. She greeted you with a smile and without you being able to ask her go come in or you could close the door, her lips were against your neck "mis-" “Amore why don’t you answer me all day” she whispers between kisses against your skin "misa stop" You push her away and she looks at you confusingly, raising her arms to the height of her chest "Que pasa y/n" You sigh and close your arms in front of you. You swallow "Misa I feel like an object for you where is the Misa who goes out with me invites me to matches or holds me in her arms I feel like a woman you pay" Misa's gaze softens and she can hear the frustration in your voice "I thought I didn't want that- I thought we were just people who had casual sex. I never wanted to hurt you. Did you fall in love with me?" she says stuttering You look at her and say nothing. You don't want to answer because you don't know the answer

oh wow i hope you like it, tell me your opinion

thank you <3